


In the Gutters, Looking at Stars

by TeamTHEFT



Series: De Profundis [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Baby Teddy Lupin, Bad!WizardingWorld, Before John's Wedding, F/M, Fem!Harry, Female Harry Potter, John and Harry are Cousins, John's family are squibs, Mini-Sherlock, Mother!Harry, On the Run, Post-Reichenbach, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-06
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-04-25 05:05:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 39,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4947808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamTHEFT/pseuds/TeamTHEFT
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the war, the Wizarding World decides they want to punish (Fem)Harry for what she did. Along with Teddy, she disappears into Muggle London and waits for help. </p><p>Then, she meets Sherlock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So I've just started this. Updates'll be rough - once I get a good deal of these chapters done it'll be posted on FF.net also, but I've got a current DW story going on there as well as a Broadchurch story and wanna finish one before starting a new story. Let me know what you think of this!

**HARRY POTTER WANTED!**

 

The headline glared back at her. Wanted. They wanted to throw her in Azkaban.

Because she’d failed to save everyone.

She nursed her now-cold cup of tea as she skimmed the article. Articles like this had been coming out in the last few weeks since the Battle of Hogwarts. So far, nothing had come out of it. Until now.

Now they were calling for her to turn herself in before the Aurors arrested her. So much for being their savior, Harry thought bitterly.

Right after the battle, she’d collected the rest of the money in her trust vault. She still had the Potter and Black vaults to her name, both of which were still rather heaping, even after paying the goblins for the damages she’d accrued in her daring escape with Hufflepuff’s cup.

Still though. The money wouldn’t be enough to get her by for very long. Especially not now, not if she was actually wanted. If the article was to be believed – and she had no doubts that the Aurors were already searching for her – she wouldn’t be able to withdraw any more money.

A crying from the other room made her sigh. Teddy. Poor, orphan Teddy. Harry padded to the next room and scooped the metamorphmagus child up. Andromeda had been unable to care for him given her age and emotional state and – as his godmother – Harry had stepped up. It was one of the last things she’d been able to do before having to disappear from sight. But Teddy was legally hers.

She quickly unbuttoned her shirt and allowed Teddy to latch onto her breast. In a way, Teddy was very lucky. Had the battle gone differently, Teddy would have been fighting with another child for breastmilk. Harry had found out a few months into their horcrux search that she was pregnant. The child had died in the womb during the battle, all because of the way Voldemort aimed his killing curse at her.

It was especially unfortunate that that was the last piece of Fred Weasley in the world, and he had ended it much like his followers had ended Fred himself.

Ended Fred just like they ended so many of Harry’s other important people. Ron. Hermione. Colin Creevey. Dobby. Remus. Sirius. Tonks. Her parents. All dead because of Voldemort.

A heavy knocking on the door startled both her and Teddy. Teddy bit down on her nipple hard at the sound, causing Harry to let out a squeak as well. She slid Teddy into her shirt before hastily buttoning him up in it, hand guarding him carefully. She moved towards the door, wand in hand as she did. The knocking sounded once more. Four knocks, then two, then three.

Severus.

She threw the door open, hiding behind it as she did. The door was pulled from her and shut quickly.

“We need to get you out of here,” Severus said without preamble. He was the only one who knew where she was staying – just as she was the only one who knew he was still alive.

“Have they found me?” she asked as she hurried out of the room. She already had a basics back packed with all their money and any essentials they might need. The bag was actually Hermione’s originally; Harry had kept it in honor of her late friend. However, it would be nice to pack up the few items they had around the house.

“Yes. It was passed along that they’re coming tonight to take you in. You and Teddy,” Severus warned her.

“Why Teddy?” Harry asked, feeling horror seep into at his words.

“They’ve decided he’s a half breed and half breeds are no longer accepted. Hagrid’s already been escorted to Azkaban,” Severus warned her.

“Who’s doing all this?” Harry asked. Severus’s nose curled up at her words.

“The Minister Council. Percy Weasley, Seamus Finnegan, and a handful of borderline Death Eaters who managed to escape being sent to Azkaban,” Severus said in disgust.

“Percy. Are the other Weasley’s in support of him?” Harry had to know.

“Molly and Ginny seem to be. Charlie, Bill, and George have all but disappeared from the world to grieve Fred,” Severus said.

“Where should I go? Do you think Grimmault Place is safe for us?” she asked.

“No. They’ve already got people set up in the area. Molly knows where it is, just can’t access it. So if you show up nearby they’ll get you. You need to escape to Muggle London,” Severus said grimly.

“Muggle London?” Harry repeated as Severus helped her shove other items into the backpack. The purse could go under her shirt as a safety precaution.

“They’ll be scouring the Wizarding World for you. Few of them will think to look in the Muggle world. You’ll be safer there,” Severus warned her.

“What are you going to do?” Harry asked.

“Hide. I’ve got a few acquaintances in France. I plan on going there and creating an identity for you. I don’t know how long it’ll take. Once I have an identity and a full-proof protection down for you, I’ll find you,” Severus swore.

“How will you find me if I’m hiding from everyone?”

“I will. Don’t worry about it,” Severus reassured her as he zipped the backpack shut. Harry turned from him, undoing her shirt. Teddy was finished and starting to fuss a bit.

“I can’t use my name in Muggle London though. There are muggleborns all over. I’ll have to trick people into letting me rent a place and get a job,” Harry mused.

“Yes. And you can’t enter Diagon Alley at all. They’ve been setting up wards to track anyone’s magical signature who enters. Just keep safe and keep out of sight, and I’ll come back for you,” Severus promised. Harry bit her lip, glancing down at Teddy.

“Would it be safer for you to take him?” she asked, feeling her heart break as she uttered the words.

“No. He’d be safest with you. I’m going to have to do a lot of careful maneuvering to get into France undetected. If I’d been able to, I’d take the two of you with me,” Severus said sadly.

Harry finished burping Teddy and fixed her shirt before turning and wrapping her arms firmly around Severus.

“Thank you. For everything,” she breathed.

“It’s nothing. Now please. Go. Take this portkey. It’ll drop you off in an alley in London. Then wear the necklace every day. It holds a two-way mirror that I can use to contact you. Be safe,” he begged.

“I will,” Harry promised, slinging the backpack over her shoulder. With Teddy wrapped in a blanket in one arm and her wand and portkey in the other, she gave Severus one last smile.

The world spun.

And crashed.

There was something in the alley she had been portkeyed to. She slammed into it roughly. Her instincts caused her to wrap both arms around Teddy, dropping both her wand and portkey. She landed with a crash, biting back the groan at the feel. She rolled over slightly, glancing up.

A fire escape. She’d crashed right into the metal fire escape someone had left down. Teddy was whimpering but thankfully had not started crying.

Harry pushed herself to her feet, wincing. She must’ve bruised a few ribs, at best. She took a hesitant step, only to hear a crunch.

With a sinking heart, her eyes flew downwards.

Lying on the ground, her wand was in two pieces.

And the locket with the two-way mirror was in pieces under her foot.

She was stuck in London with no way to get a job, no way to contact Severus, and essentially no identity.


	2. Chapter 2

**1 year, 9 Months Later**

 

It was the first plead that woke her up. She shifted slightly, her grip on Teddy tightening.

 

“Please, I’ll do anything. I just need another extension,” the voice pleaded.

 

“You’ve already had two,” a woman’s voice said coldly. Harry opened her eyes, shifting silently. The dumpster she was in was cracked slightly at the top to keep them from suffocating, and the gap was just enough for her to see what was happening outside.

 

A woman as staring down a sniveling man. The man reminded her of Pettigrew, she realized disdainfully.

 

“I can get you the information you need, lead him into your trap. Just give me a bit more time,” the man begged. Teddy stirred slightly in her arms. Harry rocked him gently, eyes glued to the scene in front of her.

 

“Too late. He’ll know what you’re doing if you so much as glance at him. You’re done,” she said. She moved closer and the man let out a gasp before collapsing on the ground, a pile of red quickly spreading from out from under him. The woman spun and strode out of the alley as the man’s ragged breathes ceased.

 

Harry needed to get out that area, but she had to wait. She had to wait until there was no chance the woman would come back, but before anyone noticed the body. She slid her backpack on and shifted Teddy in her arms, waiting a moment before starting to lift the lid.

 

“Sherlock, there he is!” a voice shouted. Harry dropped the lid, moving back quickly. Her blood ran cold. She settled back farther in the dumpster, so she could still see out but so she was hopefully more obscure. Teddy’s eyes opened and he blinked at her. Harry put a finger to her lips, signaling to Teddy that they had to be silent.

 

Two men appeared in the alley, a short man with blond hair who immediately checked the dead man for a pulse, and a tall dark haired man who was sending a text on his cell phone.

 

“He’s dead. We just saw him five minutes ago,” the blond said, puzzled.

 

“He ducked out to meet his contact. The contact knew he’d failed him, so he killed him. Lestrade’s a block away,” the dark haired man said.

 

Moments later, another slightly older man ducked into the alley, a policeman and policewoman following him. Teddy blinked up at her, opening his mouth. Harry covered his mouth desperately. They were in the wrong place. If the police officers spotted them, they’d be brought in. As a witness, she was sure. And she’d have to give her name. And then they could find her. She’d kept herself and Teddy safe for a year and nine months already. She couldn’t afford for them to be found now.

 

The men were conversing, the blond telling the other man what they knew. The dark haired man just stared at the alley critically, eyes roaming the place.

 

“Something here doesn’t quite fit,” the man said, cutting the others off. Harry all but held her breath as the man took in the alley.

 

“It looks like a normal alley to me,” the blond said.

 

And then Teddy sneezed.

 

Harry’s heart stopped at the sound. She wrapped her arms firmly around Teddy, begging, pleading that they hadn’t heard it.

 

And then the lid opened.

 

“Christ,” the new man said, staring down at her and Teddy.

 

“Harry?” the blond asked, staring at her.

 

And Harry’s heart sped up in fear. She had to get out of there. They had to get out of there. He knew who she was. She was up and trying to leap out of the side of the dumpster when the dark haired man ripped Teddy from her arms. Harry froze in her tracks, eyes glued to the man.

 

“Who is she?” the new man asked.

 

“Sorry. She looked like my sister,” the blond said after he stopped staring at her. Harry released a small breath, eyes never leaving Teddy.

 

“Give her back the kid,” the policewoman demanded.

 

“And have her run? She won’t leave without the child. We need her statement and we won’t get it if she runs,” the dark haired man said, staring disdainfully at the child in his arms. Teddy seemed alarmed as well. He was staring at Harry with a look similar to her own – one filled with fear. All Teddy knew was Harry’s arms. No one else ever held him, ever touched him.

 

“How long were you in the dumpster? Did you see what happened?” the policeman asked.

 

“Of course she did. She more than likely spent the night there. She is the witness you need,” the dark haired man said. Harry never took her eyes off of Teddy.

 

“Give her back her kid,” the blond demanded of the dark haired man.

 

And Teddy began wailing.

 

The dark haired man cursed and all but threw the child at Harry. Harry curled herself around Teddy, rocking him gently as she whispered soft words to him. He relaxed at her voice, clinging to her just as tightly as she was clinging to him. Harry was grateful the charmed bracelet Severus had made for him was still on his wrist, keeping his hair or eyes from shifting colors on them.

 

“You obviously heard my deduction. All you have to do is say I was right and you can go,” the dark haired man said.

 

“It was a woman,” Harry whispered.

 

“A woman?” the dark haired man asked sharply. Harry nodded, still rocking Teddy.

 

“What’s your name?” the man, who Harry realized was in charge of the police, asked her.

 

“Her name doesn’t matter. She told us what we need to know,” the dark haired man waved it off.

 

“We need her name so we can take down a witness statement,” the man argued.

 

“No.” The words bubbled out of her mouth before she realized it.

 

“No?” the man asked.

 

“No. I won’t make a statement,” Harry repeated, voice still quiet.

 

“You basically just did though,” the blond pointed out.

 

“But she didn’t have to say her name. That’s what it’s about. You’re hiding from someone. Someone who must have a lot of influence if you’re frightened to tell anyone your name and hiding in dumpsters to keep unseen,” the dark haired man said rapidly. Harry kept her mouth closed. If he could tell that much from her one sentence, what could he gleam from another?

 

What if he was a legilums?

 

Harry’s eyes dropped instantly, slamming her shields up as firmly as she could. She felt an odd feeling, as if he was trying to prod at her shields and almost succeed.

 

“Lestrade, you have her statement. She witnessed a woman killing the victim, the same woman who hired the man to follow me,” the man said suddenly.

 

“I don’t have a name,” the man who’d been referred to as Lestrade pointed out.

 

“Of course you do. You heard John refer to her by name earlier. Harry. Harriet Watson. His sister,” the dark haired man said. Harry forgot herself – her eyes shot up quickly.

 

“But John said she wasn’t his sister,” the policewoman pointed out.

 

“He never said that. He said she looked like his sister. And I’m saying she is. If she looks enough like Harry Watson that her own brother would think it were her, so would anyone else. You have your statement and she has her identity,” the dark haired man concluded. Lestrade sighed.

 

“Fine,” he said.

 

“We’ll be going now,” the dark haired man said, pushing the blond – John? – out of the way.

 

And firmly grasping Harry’s arm.

 

“Let me go,” Harry hissed as the dark haired man dragged her out of the alley.

 

“Not yet. I have some questions for you, and I’d rather you sterilize yourself before I continue,” the man said disdainfully.

 

“Sherlock! You can’t say that to someone!” John said, appalled, as he all but jogged to keep up with them.

 

“To be frank, she smells appalling. If I’m to handle the conversation, I’d rather not be disgusted,” the man John’d identified as Sherlock said with a sniff and a scowl.

 

Harry was calculating. It’d make a bigger scene for her to break away and try running, and from the physique of Sherlock and the intelligence he’d shown already, she had no doubt he’d track her down before she could get far.

 

“Hungry,” Teddy said as they climbed into a cab.

 

“Soon,” Harry responded. Teddy’s eyebrows furrowed as he stared at her, as if trying to figure out what the correct response was.

 

“Hungry,” Teddy finally repeated. Her backpack was firmly placed on her back – and given all the charms on it there was no way she could dig through it for any semblance of food.

 

“Yes,” Harry said. Teddy watched her for a moment before fidgeting in her arms. Harry missed the days he could be breast-fed. It was much easier to take care of him when she was feeding him breastmilk.

 

She had to appear boring. That was the only way they’d leave her alone. Sherlock seemed to find her intriguing, and the character she got from him was that he would act this way unless she bored him.

 

“Why did you think she was your sister?” Sherlock finally spoke up.

 

“Harry has the same color of hair, same texture to her hair. Comes from our father and his side of the family. Same facial structure as well. The eyes are the only difference. Hers are hazel, not green,” John explained.

 

“Father? You’ve never mentioned a father,” Sherlock said, perking up. Harry was grateful. If Sherlock got more interested in his friend, she might be able to sneak off as soon as they get out of the cab.

 

“He died when I was younger. Twenty-one years ago now. My entire father’s family died. My father, my uncle, and my cousin. I don’t know what happened. They just…all died,” John said.

 

Twenty-one years ago.

 

Voldemort.

 

And if he didn’t know, then there was a good possibility that Voldemort had killed them. Harry’s heart went out to John.

 

“You never mentioned any of them,” Sherlock said.

 

“I didn’t really know them. Mom told us Dad was disowned from his family when he was younger for something or another and Uncle James only stopped by once before him and his family were killed,” John explained.

 

Harry had to work really hard to keep on choking at his words.

 

James. No. But it’d make sense.

 

Especially if Harry was a name that ran in the family. It would make sense for the squib branch to try connecting with the family despite everything. And it would explain why she looked so much like this sister of John’s.

 

“I’ll have to look into that. It sounds like a solid four,” Sherlock murmured.

 

“Why don’t you focus on your current mystery before the toddler eats your magnifying glass,” John said wryly. Harry glanced down to see that Teddy had a piece of plastic in his mouth, gnawing happily away.

 

She gently eased it away from him, ignoring the hurt look he gave her when his newest toy was taken from him. Sherlock swiped it from her hands, giving the child an indignant look.

 

“That’s mine,” Sherlock told the child coldly. Teddy matched his glare fiercely.

 

“Mine,” Teddy repeated furiously.

 

“No. Not yours,” Sherlock corrected the child.

 

“Mine,” Teddy claimed.

 

“Teddy,” Harry chided. Teddy sent her an indignant look before glaring back at Sherlock.

 

“I see you’re great with children,” John muttered.

 

The cab stopped and Sherlock got out, grasping Harry’s arm the moment her feet touched the pavement. So much for escaping, Harry thought with a sigh.

 

“I need to call Mary and let her know I’ll be home later,” John said as they entered a building.

 

“You don’t have to stay,” Sherlock pointed out, pouting.

 

“I think I do. I don’t want to know what you’d do to the poor girl if I didn’t stick around,” John said, following them inside while pulling out his mobile.

 

Sherlock locked the flat behind them, slipping the key in his pocket before manhandling her to the bathroom. Only to sit there, arms crossed, staring at her expectantly.

 

“What?” Harry finally asked.

 

“You can go ahead and bathe,” Sherlock told her, waving at the tub.

 

“With you standing there?” Harry asked, feeling sickened at the thought. Sherlock plucked Teddy from her arms, ignoring Teddy’s squawk of protest.

 

“I’m not about to leave you in here alone with the child. You’d find some way to escape. I gather that you’re highly resourceful. So you can either bathe with me standing here, holding your child, or I’ll leave the room but keep the infant with me,” Sherlock told her.

 

“You’re not leaving my sight with him,” Harry threatened instantly.

 

“Then we have an agreement. I’ll be right here,” Sherlock said.

 

“And you won’t be watching?” Harry asked for clarification.

 

“Why would I watch you bathe?” Sherlock asked her seriously. Harry didn’t respond.

 

“How am I supposed to clean Teddy?” she asked.

 

“I’ll clean the infant,” Sherlock said, his lip curling in disgust with the words. Harry stared at him for a moment before moving to the other side of the tub. She turned the water on, still watching Sherlock and Teddy. Sherlock was filling the sink with water, trying to keep Teddy from squirming.

 

“The bracelet doesn’t come off,” Harry said as Sherlock started removing Teddy’s clothes. Sherlock’s eyes slid over to her. Taking in the fact that she was still standing there, fully clothed, as the tub filled with water. He nodded briskly before turning his attention back to the child.

 

Harry, in turn, poured some body wash into the water and watched the bubbles build up.

 

Once there was a sizeable amount of bubbles, she stripped of her pants and undergarments, leaving her oversized shirt to cover her form as she stepped into the tub. She lowered herself slowly, keeping the bottom of the shirt just above the water as she did. Once she had sunk low enough that most of her body was covered, she finished removing the shirt and dropped it in the pile of dirty clothes.

 

With her eyes glued to Teddy and Sherlock, she began scrubbing the grime off of her arms. Teddy was whimpering as Sherlock pulled the cloth diaper off and dipped him into the sink full of water.

 

“Do you have any scissors?” Harry managed to ask. One hand still on the child, Sherlock rummaged through the mirror cabinet and stretched his arm out, offering Harry a pair of scissors. Harry gave him a quiet thanks as she pulled her ratty hair into a high ponytail and cut it off.

 

Now, not only did she not have to untangle the thirteen inches or so that she’d just cut off – but she’d look less like Harry Potter and more like someone else. A boy, she figured. She was fine with that.

 

Head feeling much lighter, Harry washed the remaining strands of hair as quickly as vigorously as she could. Teddy was still whimpering as Sherlock wiped him down. Harry was just about to climb out of the tub and wrap a towel around herself when the door opened and John walked in.

 

“SHERLOCK!” John roared, causing the man in question to jump and spin around.

 

Releasing his hold on Teddy.

 

The moment Teddy started sliding under the water in the sink, Harry was on her feet and out of the tub, ignoring her lack of clothes. She pulled him up as he coughed and sputtered the water up, eyes wide in fear. Harry sank to the ground, stroking Teddy’s hair as she did. Her entire body was curled around Teddy.

 

“What the hell are you doing?” John demanded of Sherlock, moving quickly to Harry and Teddy. He grabbed the towel next to the tub and wrapped it around Harry as he examined Teddy.

 

“He’s fine,” Harry said quietly.

 

“He almost wasn’t,” John accused Sherlock.

 

“Honestly, if you hadn’t barged in, yelling at me, I wouldn’t have miscalculated,” Sherlock pointed out.

 

“I wanted to know what you were doing in here. You could have held the child outside of the room while his mother bathed,” John pointed out.

 

“She wouldn’t allow the child out of her sight, and I wouldn’t allow her out of mine,” Sherlock pointed out.

 

“So you watched her bathe?” John demanded.

 

“Why is it that everyone believes I wish to watch women bathe? My only suspicion has yet to be confirmed, as she has kept her back to me the entire time. My deduction is relatively sound, however,” Sherlock pointed out.

 

“So you did watch her bathe,” John said, his voice almost eerily calm.

 

“Of course I was. I was searching for the signs of abuse so I could learn if she was running from a partner or a guardian,” Sherlock stated. Harry wrapped the towel tighter around herself and Teddy and reached behind her, grip tightening on her backpack and purse. She slowly slipped them on, keeping an eye on the pair.

 

“So you thought it was okay for yourself to watch a woman bathe while holding her son hostage?” John asked, his voice rising.

 

“Not good?” Sherlock guessed.

 

“You’re bloody right it’s not good!” John exploded. Harry slid herself a few feet on the floor, eyes glued to the two of them. She made sure she had a good grip on the floor with the soles of her feet.

 

And she dove for the door.

 

She was out the bathroom door before either man realized what was happening.

 

Her luck ran out rather quickly when a slight weight collided with her. She collapsed to the ground, the weight on top of her. Teddy squawked in protest at the weight. The man on top of her retched the backpack off of her and flipped her, pinning her to the ground with his own body.

 

Sherlock.

 

“I have questions for you. I already informed you of this. I do not appreciate you dashing off like some madwoman at every occasion. Now, since you obviously cannot be bothered to answer my questions at a leisure pace, I’ll pose them to you now. Partner or guardian?” Sherlock asked her.

 

“Sherlock! Get off the poor girl,” John shouted at him, but Sherlock remained firmly placed on top of her.

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Harry lied, staring at a spot over his shoulder. They appeared to be Muggles, but she couldn’t dismiss that niggling she’d felt on her mind’s shields earlier.

 

One of Sherlock’s hands traced a scar on her collarbone. It then moved to her upper left arm before tracing her right shoulder. All fading scars.

 

“Judging from the shade and texture of the frontal scars, I would deduce it was a childhood guardian that caused these injuries. When you ran, your back revealed a handful of more, equally faded scars. However, there were a handful of new scars as well, one to four years old at the most. Was your abusive guardian traded in for an abusive, powerful lover?” Sherlock guessed.

 

“I have no lover,” Harry responded automatically.

 

“No lover, and a child. I see,” Sherlock mused.

 

“Your response was too automatic to be a lie. You genuinely do not have a lover, or any lover who could be coming back for you. Therefore, someone else is after you. The causer of the newer scars? Oh. No. Certainly not. I see. Powerful, yes, but they haven’t been given the chance to lay a hand on you yet,” Sherlock stated as he stared at her. Harry squirmed underneath of him, trying to get some bit of leeway. Teddy had his head craned around, staring up at Sherlock with a combination of curiosity and disgust.

 

Something only Teddy could manage, Harry thought wryly.

 

“Now, this woman. What did she look like?” Sherlock asked.

 

“For God’s sake, Sherlock, get off of her,” John protested, yanking his friend up. He then helped Harry up, gripping her towel tightly when it started to slip.

 

“Go get your bathrobe,” John ordered. Sherlock grumbled but left the room, coming back seconds later with a blue robe. John turned Harry away from Sherlock and slipped the robe on her shoulders, allowing her towel to drop as he wrapped the robe firmly around her. Teddy peeked his head out from the robe, eyeing them up.

 

“Now, what did this woman look like?” Sherlock asked even as John was guiding her to the couch, her backpack in his hands. She sat dutifully where he all but placed her, making sure she was on the edge of the seat.

 

“Black hair. Caucasian,” Harry said.

 

“Anything else?” Sherlock asked, obviously frustrated.

 

“I couldn’t see her very well,” Harry said.

 

“No. I’d daresay you didn’t. Not with that squinting going on. What happened to your glasses?” John asked her. Harry barely managed to keep from stiffening at his words. The glasses had been broken within a week of being on the streets and she realized the benefits of not having them. They were one of the many things that made her look more like Harry Potter than not.

 

“What glasses?” Harry lied. Sherlock waved the question off.

 

“Not important. Fine. You can’t tell us anything about appearance. What were they saying?” Sherlock demanded.

 

“He said he could do better, she said his target would be suspicious now, and she ran him through with a knife,” Harry recited dully.

 

“So I was the target. Fascinating,” Sherlock mused.

 

“You seem fairly calm for having just watched someone die,” John pointed out.

 

“She’s seen death before. It doesn’t bother her anymore,” Sherlock waved it off.

 

“Then how do you know she’s not the killer?” John asked.

 

“She had no blood on her, had a baby in her arms, and was firmly nestled in the dumpster for around five hours, I’d wager. She didn’t have time to root herself so firmly in the dumpster,” Sherlock waved it off.

 

“Now, why did you react to John calling you Harry? That was a quick, fearful reaction to being falsely recognized,” Sherlock pointed out.

 

“Come on, Sherlock. She’s not my sister. She looks just like her, yeah, besides the eyes, but Harry doesn’t have a son. She’s lesbian,” John pointed out.

 

“No. She’s not your sister. But you didn’t say she was. You called her Harry and she tried to flee. Which means your name is either Harry, or the men searching for you call you Harry,” Sherlock pointed out.

 

“So you’re trying to tell me that not only does she look just like my sister, but she has the same name? Come on,” John said, exasperated.

 

“You said your father had a whole family still out there. Harry could be a family name. And if your grandfather disowned your father, what’s to say he wouldn’t disown another member of the family?” Sherlock pointed out.

 

“Christ. And they were rich,” John cursed quietly.

 

“Which would mean it would be your family searching for her. Probably to dispose of her and her illegitimate child, I would assume,” Sherlock decided. Harry didn’t make a move to correct him.

 

“But that family’s dead. Dad said his father, James, and James’s family was killed in some accident,” John said.

 

“Did he say the entire family was dead? How old are you?” Sherlock asked her.

 

“Twenty,” Harry said. At least, she was close enough. She wasn’t sure of the date, so she didn’t know for sure, but she was certain it was near her birthday.

 

“James died nineteen years ago,” John said slowly.

 

“And you mentioned having a cousin,” Sherlock pointed out.

 

“So we just happened upon my thought to be dead cousin?” John wanted to know. But Sherlock was already moving on.

 

“I’m assuming this means you’ll want to be keeping her,” Sherlock said.

 

“What?” John asked, Harry repeating him seconds later.

 

“You’re always talking of how you wish you were closer to your sister. And that you wish you had more family. Here’s an early wedding present,” Sherlock said.

 

“I’m no one’s present,” Harry said, feeling anger bubble up in her at the words.

 

“I don’t plan on keeping anyone!” John pointed out.

 

“So you’re fine with us turning her out on the streets, never to see her again?” Sherlock asked curiously, “I thought that was something only I do.”

 

“No, I don’t want to turn her out in the streets!” John roared at his…friend. Sherlock only grinned at his words.

 

“Good. I was hoping to keep her nearby to study for awhile. And I’m certain Mrs. Hudson would love the help,” Sherlock said.

 

“What?” John asked, staring at him.

 

“We’ll have to tell people she is your sister to keep people from going after her,” Sherlock decided.

 

“You can’t just decide to keep someone without their permission!” John pointed out angrily.

 

“Of course you can. Isn’t that what you do with pets?” Sherlock asked.

 

“She’s a human being, not a pet!” John roared. Sherlock stared at his friend before turning to Harry. Harry’s shields immediately went up.

 

“You care for your child, yes?” he asked. Harry didn’t answer. She didn’t need to.

 

“It’s going to be a rough winter. The chill’s already set in. It’s going to rain a lot,” Sherlock pointed out.

 

“We’ve already survived winters,” Harry pointed out before she could stop herself.

 

“Fascinating,” Sherlock said before shaking his head, “Yes, but this year is going to be significantly worse than last year. It’s already to the stage where John wouldn’t let me out of the flat without my coat, if he were still living here. Your progeny already has a runny nose. He won’t last another winter,” Sherlock pointed out. Harry glanced down at Teddy, horrified to see that Teddy did, indeed, have a runny nose. Harry cradled him closer to her, Teddy snuggling into her chest in return.

 

“On the other hand, our housekeeper broke her hip a few weeks ago. She’s been unable to do much of anything, and her daughter-in-law left today to go home. I’m certain she would hire you to help her out. She also has a soft spot for children,” Sherlock pointed out.

 

“And I’d be Harry Watson?” Harry asked softly. Sherlock turned to John for confirmation. He sighed after a moment and nodded.

 

“Yes. To everyone except for Mary and possibly Lestrade who already met you, you’ll be Harry Watson. My sister,” John said.

 

“What do you expect in return?” Harry asked, glancing between John and Sherlock.

 

“Want?” John asked, surprised.

 

“She’s expecting for us to demand sex from her in place of allowing her such conditions,” Sherlock said.

 

“You’re my cousin. I wouldn’t demand that of you!” John said. He turned to Sherlock, expecting Sherlock to agree with him, only to see Sherlock eyeing her body with an analytical gaze.

 

“I have no need for sex,” Sherlock finally announced. John nodded before glancing at his watch.

 

“If this is what we’re doing, I’ll take her down and introduce her to Mrs. Hudson. Why don’t you go out and buy a few supplies for the child?” John asked.

 

“Me?” Sherlock asked in disbelief.

 

“You’re the one who wanted her to stay here. She’ll stay here. You can buy things for her. I’m assuming you’re going to have her stay in my old room. Do you need a list?” John asked. Sherlock continued to stare blankly at him. John sighed and rummaged around for a notepad and pen before glancing at Harry.

 

“What size diaper?” he asked. Harry stared at him blankly.

 

“I’ve never bought disposable diapers,” she admitted.

 

“How old is he? They tend to be based on months,” John pointed out.

 

“Two  years old?” Harry guessed. Teddy would be twenty-seven months old when she turned 20, so she figured she’d keep with those dates.

 

“He’s tiny for a two year old. We’ll get him eighteen month old stuff. So diapers for a eighteen month old, some baby clothes, wipes, baby powder, baby lotion, baby shampoo, and a playpen. For starters,” John said as he scribbled the words down.

 

“Is he eating solid foods?” John asked.

 

“When I can get it,” Harry said quietly.

 

“Get whole milk as well, and an assortment of baby food. There should be a section with baby food. He’ll need quite a bit to get him up to normal weight,” John decided. He finished the list and handed it to Sherlock. Before taking it back once more.

 

“Hold on. You also need to get some real food in the house. For Harry. Because she needs to eat too,” John said.

 

“I didn’t sign up for this,” Sherlock complained.

 

“Yes. You did. When you decided she would be staying, you took responsibility for her,” John said. Harry waited for him to say he had changed his mind, but Sherlock just watched as John added a few food items to the list and shoved it back into Sherlock’s hands.

 

Sherlock grumbled as he walked out of the room. John took Harry by the shoulder and guided her gently to a bedroom, where he started opening drawers. He pulled out a shirt and tossed it at her, followed by a pair of boxers.

 

“Here. Slip those on. I’ll see if Mary has any clothes she isn’t using tonight and I can bring them over,” John told her.

 

“I have some clothes,” Harry said.

 

“But I’m sure they’re all dirty. If you’ve been living on the streets a few months, they could all use a good wash before you wear them again. I can’t think of anything for Teddy to wear though,” John said apologetically as he turned around. Realizing that was as good as she was going to get, Harry slipped the robe off and the shirt – Sherlock’s shirt, she realized – on. She was short enough that it looked like a short dress on her – her breasts didn’t help that out though, she thought irritably. She used to be able to wear boy clothes without much problem, but after she got pregnant she actually seemed to have developed breasts.

 

When she cleared her throat, John turned around.

 

“That’ll have to do. After I introduce you to Mrs. Hudson, we can throw your clothes in the wash,” John told her. Teddy didn’t like that he didn’t have any clothes on, Harry realized. He was also still hungry.

 

“Can I get something out for Teddy to wear?” she asked him. John nodded, looking awkward.

 

“Yes. Go ahead,” he said. Harry took her backpack and dug around the top of it, pulling out the cleanest cloth diaper and shirt she had for him and slipped it on. It still looked grimy, Harry realized sadly. She also pulled a small piece of bread out, one from the previous night, and broke a small piece off for Teddy.

 

Teddy shoved the piece in his mouth happily, chewing quickly before swallowing and reaching for more. Harry stood to follow John, feeding Teddy small pieces as she did. She followed him down the stairs where he knocked on a door.

 

A breathy come in was shouted to them and John pushed open the door.

 

“Mrs. Hudson, it’s John! I’ve brought someone to see you,” he shouted back as he entered the kitchen, still grasping Harry’s arm.

 

“Oh John! You don’t visit enough!” an elder woman said as she reached for John. John crossed the distance, giving her a hug.

 

“Mrs. Hudson, this is my sister, Harry. Harry recently lost her job and home, so her and Teddy came to me. Sherlock was thinking of having them live with him for awhile, and I was thinking you could hire her to help you around the house while you’re unable,” John suggested.

 

“Like a housekeeper?” she asked with a bright smile. John nodded.

 

“Exactly. She could keep her son with her if she worked for you, unlike anywhere else. And Harry’s very attached to Teddy,” John said.

 

“She’s also wearing Sherlock’s favorite shirt,” Mrs. Hudson said with a twinkle in her eyes.

 

“Yes. We had a mishap with Teddy spitting up on her last clean shirt, so we still have to wash her things,” John explained, sharing a look with Harry.

 

“Well, yes, I would love to have her help. I have so much cleaning I need done, and I’m unable to get in my office to manage my finances. I could use the help,” Mrs. Hudson said.

 

“Great! I’ll send her down later today. I think today we’re going to make sure Sherlock’s flat is safe for her and Teddy. Then she’ll be down,” John told her with a smile.

 

“I’ll look forward to it! Come down around four and we can have tea before going over what needs done!” Mrs. Hudson suggested. Harry nodded and followed John out of the flat.

 

“Now, I will warn you. Sherlock and I, we’re trusting you here. If you so much as look at Mrs. Hudson wrong, Sherlock will hunt you down and hurt you. He’s very fond of the landlady. Now, I wasn’t kidding about the cleaning thing. That apartment is a health hazard.”


	3. Chapter 2

John was right, Harry realized an hour into their cleaning. The flat was a disaster. John set to work on the bedroom Harry learned she would be staying in, his old room, while he left her to start the bathroom with Teddy. 

He hadn’t told her not to run off, and at first Harry had considered doing just that. But the longer she thought about it, the more she realized it would benefit both her and Teddy to stay there.

With Teddy sitting in the empty tub, his only toy (a plastic rubber ducky) in hand, Harry set to work cleaning the grime from the bathroom and neatening it up. 

She didn’t really know why she was staying. She didn’t trust them, but if she did look just like John’s sister, she could hide in plain sight. Especially if she worked in the house with Mrs. Hudson. She wouldn’t even have to leave the house with Teddy. They could stay there, inside, and completely out of sight. 

On top of that, they would be warm. And John seemed to know something about babies. 

So Harry cleaned. 

Sherlock, she decided, was a loose cannon. She still wasn’t sure if he could read minds or not. He seemed to be able to, but Harry was certain he was not a wizard. 

He also seemed much smarter than any normal person. He seemed even smarter than Hermione.

And that was saying something. 

Her and John tackled the kitchen together. Harry had pulled her sling for Teddy out of the backpack and had Teddy sprawled across her chest, dingy duck in his hands as he babbled gleefully. The kitchen, to be frank, was appalling. John had to move a bag of thumbs from the main shelf of the fridge to the top one, claiming that Sherlock would be sulking for weeks if they threw them out altogether. 

They were just finishing up the kitchen when Sherlock stomped into the place, arms filled with bags. 

Arms filled with bags, and a blonde woman following behind him also carrying bags. Harry stiffened at the sight of the woman entering, and the woman stiffened at the sight of Harry. She seemed to almost recognize Harry, but as she didn’t pull a wand out, Harry wasn’t as worried. 

“Sherlock, what’s all this?” John asked, staring at him. 

“You told me to get baby stuff,” Sherlock said.

“Yeah, and I gave you a list,” John pointed out.

“I called Mary,” Sherlock said. 

“She does look just like your sister,” the woman he’d identified as Mary said. Oh. Mary. The person John mentioned. A girlfriend? Harry glanced at her, noting the ring. Fiancée then? John didn’t have a ring.

“What all did you buy?” John asked suspiciously as Mary started putting food in the fridge. 

“Is that my shirt?” Sherlock asked, eyes glued to Harry. 

“We needed something for her to wear,” John defended himself. 

“And you picked my shirt? It doesn’t even fit her correctly,” Sherlock complained.

“Of course it doesn’t. It’s a shirt,” John said. Sherlock huffed once more, causing Teddy to wiggle himself around so he was facing outward. He huffed right back at Sherlock. Harry bit back a smile. Teddy had seemed to be taking an instant disliking to Sherlock, and it amused her greatly. 

Mary had finished putting the food in the fridge and started pulling things out of the bag. 

“I should have called you to begin with,” John admitted.

“You should have. When I got there, he was staring at dummies like they were a satanic symbol,” Mary said with a chuckle. Sherlock just continued to scowl, especially directing his glare at Teddy who gave it just as much in return.

“God, Sherlock. The child even has your glare!” Mary chastised. Sherlock jerked back at her action, turning to Mary.

“I beg your pardon?” he asked, affronted. 

“He does. He has your eyes and your glare. Hair’s the same color, same as his mother’s as well, but same color and similar curls. He looks like a mini you with her facial structure,” Mary said. 

“He does look just like you,” John admitted, comparing the two. 

“No wonder you were so quick to want her and the child to stay with you,” Mary added. 

“It’s not my child!” Sherlock protested, looking puzzled at the conclusion.

“You have to admit, Sherlock, it looks like you’re lying,” John said quietly.

“Do a DNA test! That’ll show I’m not the father!” Sherlock pointed out.

“No,” Harry protested quickly.

“Why not?” John asked.

“No DNA test. He’s my baby,” Harry repeated, her grip on Teddy tightening as Teddy squawked at her. 

“No one was saying he wasn’t your baby,” John reassured her, but both Mary and Sherlock were staring at her, both gazes calculating. 

“We should do a DNA test on you. To make sure you really are John’s cousin,” Sherlock said.

“You’re the one who said I was. I said nothing,” Harry pointed out, feeling really small. Her stomach constricted at the thought of that. 

Suddenly, Teddy’s rubber duck flew out of his hands and at Sherlock’s head. It hit before Sherlock could even register what had happened. 

“No hurt Mummy,” Teddy announced, still glaring at Sherlock. When Harry recovered from the shock, she dashed out of the room, locking herself swiftly in the bathroom. She climbed into the dry tub with Teddy, unhooking him from her sling and turning him to face her.

“Why did you do that?” she asked him. 

“Meanie,” Teddy said, his lower lip pouting. 

“Yes, he was a meanie, but we can’t throw things at him. What if we don’t get your toy back now? Duckie might be gone,” Harry warned him. 

“Duckie?” Teddy asked, eyes wide. Harry nodded solemnly.

“Duckie. You threw Duckie at him. He didn’t like it. What if he keeps Duckie?” Harry asked the boy. Teddy’s eyes filled with tears. 

“We can’t throw things, Teddy. I know you don’t feel good, but we can’t throw things. We don’t know what he’ll do about it,” Harry warned him. 

“He hurt you?” Teddy asked, looking scared. 

“I don’t know, Teddy. We may have to run. We can’t throw things. We gotta be safe. We gotta be good. All the time. We don’t know when Sev’ll come for us,” Harry warned Teddy. She’d been telling Teddy about Severus since the beginning. She didn’t want to talk about Tonks or Remus yet – not while they were on the run. When he got old enough, she would. Or once they were safe with Severus. 

The door opened and Harry quickly ducked down, crouching protectively over Teddy in the tub. 

John was standing there, looking highly awkward. He sat on the lid of the toilet, waiting for Harry to sit up and notice him. When she did, he offered her a small smile.

“Hey,” he said. Harry didn’t respond but watched him carefully, keeping track of any of his body’s movement. 

“He’s sulking in the kitchen, but he’s not mad. He won’t hit you,” John promised. Harry didn’t say a word, just watched him carefully. Harry carefully climbed out of the bathtub, allowing Teddy to stand at her feet as he clutched her legs. Teddy rarely got the chance to stand and walk on his own – Harry had him practice every day with her, but he wasn’t allowed to just wander like most children were. 

There was a lot of things Teddy wasn’t allowed to do, and it was painful for Harry to admit. 

“In fact, he looked like he’d rather dissect the duck rather than throw it away,” John said with a chuckle. 

And Teddy was gone.

Harry blinked for a moment. Dissect. Teddy shouldn’t know that word. But…Harry jumped out of her stupor and took off running out the door, catching a glimpse of Teddy entering the kitchen. She entered the kitchen to see that Teddy had leapt at Sherlock, surprising him. 

“My Duckie!” he cried out as he all but climbed Sherlock’s legs. Harry could only stare in horror at the sight. Teddy was glaring at Sherlock, reaching desperately for the duck. 

And Sherlock’s hand lowered. 

Teddy snatched the duck out of his hands and dropped to the ground, stumbling back. He fell backwards but scrambled back to his feet. He grabbed Harry’s hand and tried tugging her out of the room with a sense of desperation. 

“Run, Mama, run,” Teddy begged, eyes wide as Harry remained rooted in spot. Everyone else in the kitchen was frozen as well. 

“What the bloody hell?” John asked, staring at them. Teddy stopped trying to pull her and put his arms up, both arms shaking as he did. Harry lifted the toddler in her arms, noting that he was shaking all over. He was terrified. His Duckie was cradled tightly in one arm as the other latched onto Harry with an iron grip. 

And then he started crying. 

It was his quiet crying. The only time Teddy ever wailed was when someone else tried to take him from Harry. Any other time, he knew they had to be quiet. 

Harry wanted to run. Every instinct in her was screaming for her to run out the door. She was practically trembling to take off. She was just about to give into that instinct when John grabbed her elbow. Harry jumped at the sudden touch, only managing to stay standing when John steadied her. 

He led her to a chair and helped her sit down before sitting down across the table from her. He reached over, touching Teddy’s head. Teddy flinched away from him. 

“Teddy. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Sherlock will not dissect your toys. I promise,” John said solemnly. Teddy peeked up slightly and turned, watching John as he spoke. 

“Do you understand him?” Harry asked Teddy. Teddy sniffled and shook his head. 

“He promised that Sherlock would not cut up Duckie,” Harry told him, watching Sherlock as she said the words. Teddy nodded, but still didn’t look comfortable. 

“That’s what happened? You told the child I would dissect his toy?” Sherlock asked incredulously. 

“I didn’t realize he’d understand it. And I didn’t realize he could run that fast,” John admitted. 

“It’s his only toy,” Harry supplied quietly. 

“Not anymore. We picked him up a few toys,” Mary said, watching Harry carefully as she did. She reached into one of the sacks and, without breaking eye contact with Harry, pulled out a plush wolf. 

Harry’s heart stopped. 

“I thought so,” Mary concluded, setting the wolf down on the table. 

“What?” John asked, staring between the two of them. 

“The reason Harry doesn’t want a DNA test is because Teddy is not her birth son. She’s his adopted son. Teddy’s last name is Lupin,” Mary explained. 

“Lupin. Wolf?” Sherlock said. Mary nodded.

“I suspected when you mentioned a girl with no name and a son named Teddy. I heard of her. Did you do what they say you did?” Mary asked her. 

“I’m not dangerous. Neither is Teddy,” Harry said, swallowing the lump in her throat at the words. 

“You killed a man,” Mary said evenly.

“I did,” Harry admitted without remorse. 

“Is that why you wouldn’t tell the police your name? You’re escaping arrest?” John asked, eyes wide.

“Do you arrest the soldiers who kill the terrorists or other soldiers?” Harry asked him. John flinched at her words. 

“Did you fight in a war?” John asked her, eyes wide.

“I ended a war. I won a war,” Harry informed him. Mary had yet to pull a wand on her, so Harry doubted she was magical. She might be a squib, though. So she could still alert someone to where Harry was. 

“If you did that, why are you hiding? Why do you fear your life?” Sherlock asked critically. 

“Because the community she saved is a fearful one. How many seventeen year olds can defeat a man who had been instilling fear into the community for the last thirty years? And she just walks in and kills him in one blow,” Mary explained, keeping it as Muggle-friendly as she could. 

“Why have we not heard of this?” John asked.

“It’s a small community. Private, keeps out of the way. A few of the events that happened two and three years ago were from the man. That bridge that collapsed, killing hundreds? That was him,” Mary explained. 

“So instead of thanking you, they’re trying to…what? Imprison you for murder?” John asked, trying to wrap his mind around what she was saying. 

“Death seems more likely,” Harry admitted. 

“What does Teddy have to do with this?” Sherlock spoke up suddenly, eyes focused on the child.

“They want Teddy dead because of who his parents were,” Harry spat. 

“Ah. So the society is highly prejudiced,” Sherlock deduced. 

“Incredibly so,” Mary agreed. 

“And you plan on staying on the streets until when? Forever?” John asked in disbelief. 

“Someone is helping me,” Harry admitted.

“They’re doing a poor job at it,” Sherlock said with a sniff.

“I lost contact. And he’s on the run as well. He’ll find me when he can. I trust him,” Harry defended.

“And who is this man?” Sherlock questioned.

“My….father, of sorts,” Harry said, not daring to give a name when Mary was present. 

“Look, I don’t care,” John said suddenly. Everyone’s heads turned to John. 

“It’s true. I don’t care why you’re running. So far, I’ve liked you. I’ve found no reason not to like you. Sherlock offered you a home; I’m backing it up. I’ll tell people you’re my sister. As long as Harry stays away, and she more or less will, you’ve got a cover identity,” John said. 

“I suppose, as long as you do not advertise it, you can claim me as father to the child. So long as he refrains from attacking me,” Sherlock said with a sigh.

“What?” Harry asked dumbly, not sure she was registering his words properly.

“The child looks like a genetic clone of the two of us. It would further explain why you are sticking around here when you did not in the past. We’ll keep this from Mycroft as long as possible; the last thing I want is Mummy showing up in search of a grandbaby,” Sherlock said with a wince. 

“You want me to stay here? Pretend to be part of your lives?” Harry asked in disbelief.

“Someone has to teach the brat proper behaviors,” Sherlock said, sniffing in Teddy’s direction. Teddy’s glare intensified and he looked ready to throw Duckie again, only to control himself. Instead, he sniffed at Sherlock and turned his head away, a look of disgust on his face only too reminiscent of Sherlock’s.

“You won’t have any problem convincing people he’s yours,” Mary said wryly. 

“Now, I do recall asking just what you two picked up. Should I be alarmed?” John asked his wife. Mary picked up the plush wolf and held it out to Harry.

“I really did think it was a good idea. I just needed to know the truth,” Mary said. Teddy turned at the sound of her voice and glanced at the proffered toy. Harry tentatively took it and held it out to Teddy. 

“Mary got you a toy. His name is Moony,” Harry said, blinking back a tear as she did. Teddy stared at her and then the toy, as if he didn’t quite understand the concept. He reached out and petted it gently before grasping it in one hand, cradling it to his chest. He turned to Mary.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. 

“I’m the one that thought he needed a stuffed animal,” Sherlock huffed.

“You did?” John asked in disbelief.

“He was holding it and a dog plushy when I arrived,” Mary admitted. 

“Either would have been perfect,” Harry admitted quietly. 

“Good. Because I also got the other one when Mary said he would need more than one toy,” Sherlock said, pulling a black dog from the bag. 

“How long do you suppose we can keep this from Mycroft?” John asked.

“Depends. Does she look enough like your sister that software matching technology could compare the two?” Sherlock asked.

“I’d say so. As long as she didn’t look directly at a camera, they could be twins,” John said.

“Good. Maybe awhile then,” Sherlock mused. 

The two of them pulled quite few things out, things Harry had no idea how to use. With each item she felt even more overwhelmed. John seemed to notice and glanced at a clock on the wall.

“Why don’t you head down and see if Mrs. Hudson needed some help? Didn’t you tell her you’d come down today? You can test your new identity out on her,” John suggested.

“Hungry,” Teddy whispered as Harry stood. 

John heard.

“Christ. We didn’t get you anything to eat, did we? We’ve been so distracted!” John said, sounding distressed.

“I’m fine. Teddy just needs some food,” Harry said, her voice small. 

“When’s the last time you ate?” John demanded, watching her.

“Recently. Teddy needs food. I don’t,” Harry insisted. And it was true. She was used to going days without food. Even when she’d made it to Hogwarts, she couldn’t force herself to eat every day. She had gotten really good at pretending to eat at every mean, but she usually only ate a meal or two every two days. 

The only time she’d ever tried to eat properly was when she was pregnant. And at that time, she really couldn’t eat properly since they were on the run. 

“I want a day. What day did you eat last?” John asked her sternly. Harry had to think about it. It had been awhile. Still recent. She could make it a week before she really started feeling the need to eat. 

“Two days ago,” Harry finally said. 

“No wonder you’re so thin. Come on. We’re getting food, then you’ll go talk with Mrs. Hudson,” John ordered, bringing her into the kitchen and physically sitting her down in the chair. Mary pulled another bag up, causing John’s eyes to light up.

“I figured you’d need food,” she said.

So she dished up takeaway for each of them and pulled out a jar of baby food for Teddy. At least, that’s what Harry learned it was after she read the label. She managed to open it and spoon it into Teddy’s skeptical mouth. She steadily ignored her own food, preferring to finish and make sure Teddy was full before she dared eat anything. 

“I can feed him for you,” Mary volunteered when it became obvious that Harry wouldn’t touch her food til Teddy was done.

“It’s fine,” Harry said, knowing better than to allow anyone else to try holding him.

“Why does the child refuse to let anyone else near him?” Sherlock asked, staring at Harry curiously.

“Why would he let anyone else hold him? Who was there for me to trust to allow them to hold my baby?” Harry asked him seriously.

“So he hasn’t ever been held by anyone other than you?” John asked, eyes wide.

“Not since he was three months old,” Harry said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she cleaned Teddy up. His eyes were drooping – his full stomach was making him tired. That rarely happened – it was hard for Harry to procure enough food to fill him up every time she got him food. 

Harry shifted him, allowing him to bury his face into her shoulder. She waited until he was comfortable before she picked up the fork with her left hand and slowly began the process of attempting to eat. 

“You’re right handed.” Harry nodded, not even bothering to offer words. 

“Why don’t you use your right hand then?” Sherlock asked her, eyes drilling into her.

“It would disturb Teddy,” Harry said simply.

“So instead of shifting him slightly, you’ll eat with the wrong hand and inconvenience yourself tremendously? Why?” Sherlock asked, confused.

“It’s called being a mother,” Harry informed him.

“It sounds tedious,” Sherlock dismissed before standing up.

“Where are you going?” John asked, standing up as well.

“I’m sure Lestrade has something I can do. I’m bored,” Sherlock said flippantly.

“Why don’t you work on child-safing the living room? We took care of the kitchen, bathroom, and my old room. I didn’t dare touch the living room,” John pointed out.

“It’s child-safe,” Sherlock said, furrowing his eyebrows together. John walked into the living room and pulled – a knife? – off of the fireplace mantle.

“This is the definition of a hazard to children,” John said dryly.

“He couldn’t have reached that,” Sherlock argued.

“You saw him climb your leg. I’d wager, give him a few weeks to settle in, and he’ll be in everything. EVERYTHING. So no poisons, no chemicals, no sharp objects, no guns. No bringing home bloody harpoons,” John said pointedly.

“Once,” Sherlock said, irritated at the accusation. 

“Teddy’ll be fine. He’ll be with me always,” Harry said.

“Hopefully he’ll be able to learn to be away from you,” John suggested.

“No,” Harry immediately countered. 

“He can’t always be with you,” John tried, but Harry shook her head.

“Yes. He can. I can’t trust him with anyone,” Harry said automatically.

“Hopefully, you’ll be able to trust us, soon,” John said, giving her a weak smile.

“John, she’s been on the run for a long time. You can’t expect her to just trust you immediately. She’s only known you for a few hours, and most of that time you’ve been all but keeping her prisoner,” Mary pointed out. 

****

Harry really liked Mrs. Hudson. Her and Teddy were doted on by the old lady. Harry had a list Mrs. Hudson wrote up of tasks for her to do, and Harry wasted no time on starting.

She doubted Mrs. Hudson realized how much of a hard worker she was. 

She did, however, start to realize that when Harry told her a few hours later that she’d finished the list. 

After that, the two of them sat down and came up with a list of everything Mrs. Hudson wanted her to do on a daily basis. Harry nodded with each task, even asked her if there was anything else when she finished.

Harry was used to doing twice that much in a day, back from the Dursley’s. 

They also discussed payment options, something that Harry was hoping she wasn’t being taken advantage of. Mrs. Hudson didn’t seem like the type of woman to take advantage of a young mother, but Harry had learned early on that you can’t trust someone based on stereotypes. 

Still, when she’d finished, Harry made her way back to the flat and locked herself and Teddy in the room for the night. 

She took off Teddy’s suppressant bracelet and allowed him to change his hair color, eyes color, and face to his heart’s desire. It had been a few days since she’d allowed him to do so, and he was gleeful at the opportunity. When she went to put the bracelet on again, she urged him to morph back into the exact appearance he was in before. Usually, he changed his appearance slightly each day. 

He couldn’t do that anymore, not with Sherlock being as observant as he was. So Harry told Teddy to morph back, looking like her and Sherlock. It took about five minutes for him to be morphed so completely that Harry felt their secret was safe.

It was only then that she allowed him to curl up into her and fall asleep. 

Soon, she was unconscious as well.


	4. Chapter 3

At five in the morning, Sherlock was up and picking the lock to John’s old room.

He made sure he was silent in his endeavors – he had no doubts that this Harry girl was a light sleeper. 

He examined the bed carefully, gleefully pulling a strand of shredded hair from the bed. Definitely Harry’s. He had to pluck one from the child’s head, but he doubted the child was as light of a sleeper as the girl most certainly was. 

Armed with both strands, he made his way back to the kitchen where his DNA testing kit was already set up. 

He spent the next hour running and comparing DNA. John and Harry most certainly were related – not brother and sister, but first cousins did seem to be an option. In fact, he was almost certain of that. 

But what troubled him was the child’s DNA.

Because it matched Harry’s. 

Eyebrows furrowed, he pulled his own strand of hair out and examined it in comparison to Teddy’s.

Only for it to match.

Impossible.

He remembered everything. He had never met Harry before, nor had he bedded her. He was certain he would remember such an occasion. Bedding people was something he did not do frequently. He supposed artificial insemination was an option, but he had never donated sperm and he couldn’t think of any way someone could have stolen it from him.

Something didn’t make sense, and Sherlock planned on figuring it out. Even if that meant checking Teddy’s DNA every day to watch for a change.

It was just as he’d finished this decision when he heard footsteps. He glanced up to see Teddy padding into the room, stuffed animal in each hand. His eyes scanned the room, narrowing when he stopped on Sherlock.

“I see you’re up. Didn’t your mother tell you to stay in your room?” Sherlock asked, lifting an eyebrow. Teddy stared at him, as if not knowing what to say.

“You’re exceptionally smart for a child.” Sherlock said, analyzing his actions. 

“What do you know about DNA?” Sherlock asked the child. Teddy continued to stare at him. Sherlock waved him over, and Teddy reluctantly walked over, climbing onto the chair next to Sherlock.

“Now, these strands here are…”

***

When Harry woke up, she was surprised to feel both warm and content. It was an odd feeling. She was on something soft – a bed? Oh, a bed. 

She stretched, letting out a soft yawn as she reached for Teddy…and felt nothing.

Any content she had been feeling vanished. She rolled out of the bed, crashing hard into the floor. She was on her feet and running out of the room before she could register the pain. 

She crashed into the wall next to the kitchen, not even realizing there was a wall there. She steadied herself, eyes searching the area. 

Standing on a chair at the table was Teddy. 

Babbling with Sherlock.

Next to all sorts of chemicals and a…microscope? 

“So that’s why it’s odd. Because I’ve never procreated and you have my DNA,” Sherlock finished, glancing up at her. 

“Looks like Mummy’s awake,” Sherlock said. Teddy spun around, nearly falling off the chair. He climbed down quickly and ran at her, hugging her tightly around the legs. Harry’s grip on the wall tightened as she fought to stay standing. 

“You appear to be dripping blood on the floor. Pity. I could have used that for the DNA test,” Sherlock said with a sigh. 

“Hurt? Mommy hurt?” Teddy asked in alarm. 

“No honey. I’m fine,” Harry lied, carefully bending over and scooping the infant up. She settled him on her hip, still leaning against the doorframe. 

“Obviously you are not. I guess I should take you to St. Barts,” Sherlock said with a sigh.

“No. I’m fine,” Harry said quickly, eyes wide. 

“I know someone who works in the mortuary section. She can mend you up just fine,” Sherlock said, waving it off.

Harry shook her head once again, opening her mouth to protest when her vision darkened. 

***

Sherlock sighed as the girl collapsed on the ground. She hit her head when she fell out of bed, Sherlock was certain, and then she ran into the doorframe. Concussion, most definitely. 

Teddy was shaking his mother. That wasn’t good for her, Sherlock surmised. He let out a second sigh as he stood and made his way over to her. 

He was going to have to take her to St. Barts now. Not only that, he would have to carry her there, possibly the child as well. He lifted her, shifting her light form in his arms as he stared down at Teddy.

“Can you walk alongside me?” he asked.

“Mommy hurt?” Teddy repeated his previous question, wide eyes glued to Sherlock.

“Yes. Mommy is hurt. We will take her to a hospital where they will make her better,” Sherlock said, feeling ridiculous as he dumbed down his words. The child nodded, however. 

The child was abnormally bright, Sherlock admitted. He seemed to have grasped what Sherlock was telling him about DNA, although Sherlock knew some words went over his head. Still, for a child of his age, he was good. 

He strode out of the room and down the stairs, realizing when he got to the bottom that Teddy was not with him. Instead, he was standing at the top of the stairs, staring dubiously down at them. 

Sherlock walked back up the stairs and sighed loudly, earning a glare from the child. 

“I thought we were past the glares,” Sherlock said. The child waited for…something, watching him as he did. 

Oh. He would have to carry the child down the stairs. Sherlock shifted Harry in his arms and picked Teddy up, placing the child on his hip before shifting Harry back to her previous position in his arms. 

Mycroft was bound to notice this. Did they really need to go to the hospital? 

Yes, Sherlock reluctantly decided. John would kill him if he called saying Harry was unconscious on her second morning. 

“Bag,” Teddy said suddenly, eyes wide.

“Bag?” Sherlock repeated.

“Need bag,” Teddy said urgently.

“We don’t need the bag,” Sherlock said.

“No. Need backpack bag,” Teddy said firmly. Sherlock made his way back into the flat and picked up a bag lying by the door. It wasn’t the girl’s backpack, but it was the bag Mary had packed for her the night before. 

Sherlock hadn’t really been paying attention as to its uses. He just knew it was there. 

This time, Teddy was silent as they went down the stairs and out of the building. He had no problem hailing a cab – the first one driving by stopped at the sight of an infant and unconscious woman in his arms and sped towards the hospital without even being told to do so. 

It was early when they made it to St. Barts – perhaps around 8, Sherlock guessed. Which was fine with him – Molly usually arrived about that time, if he remembered correctly. He walked right past the secretary, a bored girl who didn’t even glance up at him, and hopped in the elevator. Teddy was still silent. 

He expected he would receive a call from Mycroft within the hour about his mysterious woman and child. No doubt Mycroft was running facial match scans on both of them. 

He made his way down the hallway and into the morgue, where Molly was looking over a clipboard in her hands. Her eyes flew up at the sound of the door and widened when she saw what he was holding.

“Sherlock! Please tell me she isn’t dead!” Molly said, moving quickly towards them.

“Of course not. She hit her head twice and John would not have reacted kindly if I told him his sister had already been hurt after only a day at the flat,” Sherlock said smoothly. He laid her down on one of the tables. Molly didn’t even spare the child a look, quickly examining the bump on the front of her head and the blood from the back. 

“You should have brought her upstairs. Did she become unconscious immediately?” Molly asked.

“No. She gradually fainted a few minutes after her second collision,” Sherlock offered.

“Then it wasn’t the bump that caused her lack of consciousness. She might have a cold or be pregnant or something. I’ll get some blood and run a few tests,” Molly said. She quickly did as she said she would and popped into the next room, handing the blood off to an assistant who scurried upstairs.

It was only then that she looked at the child.

And gasped. 

Her eyes darted between the child in his arms and the woman on the table. 

“John’s sister. You have a child with John’s sister?” Molly asked faintly. Sherlock opened his mouth, ready to automatically deny such an accusation, when he remembered he had offered to use that very story just the night before. 

“Yes,” Sherlock said.

“You never mentioned a child,” Molly said.

“No. I was unaware of his existence. She only came to visit John yesterday and let it slip. I refused to allow her to leave without me getting to know my son,” Sherlock said, trying to keep the disdain out of his voice. 

Molly moved closer, frowning. 

“Did you guys just wake up?” she asked, examining the child.

“She did. Theo wandered into the kitchen an hour or so ago and listened to me explain DNA,” Sherlock supplied. Yes. Theo. Sherlock liked that name. It sounded much more suitable to his mentality than Teddy did. 

And it offered another degree to their identity. He wouldn’t have a child called Teddy. 

“Did you change his clothes? Or his diaper?” Molly asked.

“Diaper?” Sherlock asked, eyebrows furrowing. Molly took the child from him instantly, as well as the bag. Teddy began to whimper the moment he left Sherlock’s arms, eyes darting around the room wildly. They kept falling back to Harry’s still form.

“Shh, darling, it’s okay. You’ll feel better,” Molly said soothingly. She laid him down on the table next to Harry and pulled the bag up as well. She dug out a piece of fabric and a piece of…cloth? Sherlock was uncertain as to the exact nature of the material in her hands. She also pulled out a packet of…wipes? Sherlock’s eyebrows furrowed. 

They continued to furrow as Molly motioned him closer.

“I’m assuming, judging by your looks, that you haven’t changed a diaper before. If you’re to take care of a son, you need to know,” Molly said, making him take her place. Teddy started to squirm uncomfortably. Molly stilled him, showing Sherlock how to remove the diaper. 

A traumatizing five minutes later, Teddy was wearing a clean…diaper…and new shirt. He was still staring warily at Molly when he wasn’t watching his mother worriedly. 

The moment Molly tried picking him up, he started whimpering as he had the day before when Sherlock had grabbed him. Sherlock quickly pulled him from Molly’s grasp, grateful when the whimpers stopped.

“She kept him isolated with her. He’s not used to other people holding him. He’s only letting me because he’s worried about his mother,” Sherlock said smoothly. Molly frowned but nodded. 

“I’ll go ahead and clean up her head while we wait for the results. How old is he?” Molly asked as she moved to Harry, gently rolling her over onto her stomach.

“Two years old,” Sherlock said, glad he knew that fact. If she asked much of anything else, he wouldn’t have an answer. 

“Bit small for two years old. Has he had a checkup recently?” Molly asked, cleaning the back of Harry’s head with antiseptic wipes. She had to do a lot of moving the hair around though, Sherlock noticed. He thought about suggesting she shaved it off, but doubted Harry – or John – would be very happy with him.

“I doubt it. Harry’s a bit paranoid. Didn’t have the best living conditions. Came to John for help,” Sherlock supplied.

“Well, once she wakes up we can bring them upstairs and find a pediatrics doctor to give him a checkup. I’m surprised John didn’t force them here as soon as they arrived,” Molly said.

“He tried but she arrived late and was tired,” Sherlock said shortly.

“She won’t need stitches. We’ll have to wait for the tests to come back to see if there’s anything wrong,” Molly said, leaning back against a table and staring at him. 

“You could have told me,” Molly finally said.

“I’m sorry?” Sherlock mustered, staring at her.

“You could have told me the reason you weren’t interested in me was because you already had a woman. I would have moved on much faster,” Molly said. 

“I was…unaware…that this was a problem for you,” Sherlock tried to say smoothly, synapsises firing in his head as he analyzed her words. It had to do with emotions, he was certain, and while he had certainly improved in his ability to decode certain emotions, the subject as a whole still evaded him.

There was a knocking on the door and the lab assistant Molly had sent off with a sample was back, grim look on his face. He handed her the paper, hovering nearby.

“Oh. Sherlock, we need to move her upstairs,” Molly said, eyes wide.

“She won’t like that,” Sherlock said.

“She has pneumonia. Later stages. She’s had it for months, it looks like. It’s in her blood. We should test the child too. She needs antibiotics or her body won’t be able to finish fighting off the infection,” Molly said. 

With a sigh, Sherlock agreed.

***

The first thing Harry was aware of when she came to was a beeping noise. A heartbeat.

Her heartbeat. She was in a hospital. Her eyes shot open quickly, wide. She glanced around the empty room, examining the wires hooked up to her. No. She couldn’t be there. She had to get out. Now. 

She leaned forward, noting that she didn’t feel sore. Good. Not much of a physical injury then. She grabbed the clipboard on the front of the bed and scanned over it.

Pneumonia. She could live with that, right? She was sure she could. As long as it wasn’t contagious. 

She had to find Teddy and get them both out of there, and she needed to do it now. Her skin was itching at the feel of being somewhere so open, being so…vulnerable. She carefully slid the IV out of her arm and slid out of the room, eyes peeled for anyone who looked like they would return her to her room.

Teddy. She needed to find Teddy, and needed to find him now. She needed Teddy so they could run. She couldn’t run without Teddy. She closed her eyes quickly and summoned her magic. There were few things she could do with it, without her wand, but she could always find Teddy. 

She followed the invisible strand quickly, ducking out of sight of any doctors and nurses as she did. She had been around Nurse Pomphrey enough to know that fact. She got to the room just in time to hear someone telling Sherlock and another woman that she’d disappeared. Both took off running out of the room, leaving Teddy behind.

Thank God. 

Harry all but ran into the room and scooped Teddy up, dashing out of the room with him. She didn’t stop running until she was out of the alley and in a back alley. 

Where to go? She didn’t even know for sure where she was. She didn’t think she’d ever been to this part of the city – at least, she couldn’t remember it. That and her brain felt fuzzy. And it was a bit chilly out. Chilly for her in Sherlock’s shirt, since that was all she was wearing. 

She had nothing on her. No backpack, no purse. No money. No jackets. No blanket. But they had to get out of there. She couldn’t be found. 

And if Sherlock was that willing to put her somewhere she could be found, she wasn’t going to stay there anymore. 

***

The room was empty. Sherlock stared at the bed for a moment, mind silent. Then he started taking it all in.

Bed rumbled but not a mess. Woke up slowly. Clipboard slightly crooked – she first checked what she had. Sherlock wasn’t sure if she knew what pneumonia was, but she knew she had it. IV dangling at the side – it had been tugged out, not ripped out. She was calculating. 

So she woke up, decided she had to get out of there.

The first place she would go would be to find her kid.

Sherlock turned and ran out of the room, back for the room they’d carelessly left Teddy in. 

It was empty. They were both gone. 

“John’s not going to be pleased,” Sherlock muttered as he surveyed the hallway. 

***

He was right. John was not happy. John was upset. Extremely upset. He was more than upset though – he was worried. Especially when he realized she had both a concussion and pneumonia. And Teddy. And nothing with her. 

He called Lestrade immediately, despite Sherlock’s protests. But Lestrade even said he couldn’t do much, and unless he saw her he couldn’t bring her back. 

And Sherlock didn’t tell John, but he had a feeling that if Harry wanted to be hidden, she’d stay hidden. She’d been on the streets over a year before they came across her.

However, they had her bags. The handbag, Sherlock had been unable to get into, but the backpack had clothes, a bit of money, and their blanket. They had none of them. 

They didn’t even have Teddy’s diaper bag. And Harry didn’t even have pants. 

And the forecast said the temperature was going to drop in the next few days. When it wasn’t raining. 

John begged Sherlock to find her. After all, that was something Sherlock did for a living. But Sherlock didn’t want to admit that while he could find most people, he wasn’t certain he could find Harry. 

Mrs. Hudson was sad to learn that her help was gone, and John just acted…depressed. Sherlock didn’t like the change in either of his acquaintances. 

So he decided he would find her again. He wouldn’t hurry – no, he’d wait a bit. She’d make a mistake. And soon. But the first week? The first week she’d be on edge. He’d find her once she relaxed a bit. And then, he’d bring her back. For John. And Mrs. Hudson.

And he didn’t think he’d mind seeing Teddy again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will say that I don't know much of anything about hospitals, or pneumonia. This is just a side project of mine, as I am currently swamped with college. I'm trying to use this as a way of continuing to write something and keep myself balanced between school and relaxation.
> 
> With that in mind, I'm only sharing it as I write because I felt some people might be interested. If you have suggestions, please share them. If you have critiques, keep in mind that I'm not really posting this looking for critiques. I don't mind advice, mind you - but this is just a fun little side project to me. My twenty-page research paper and massive curriculum project take priority over this any day.
> 
> Thanks for reading. That being said, I do appreciate the comments and hits rising. I just wanted to make sure everyone knew where this story stands.  
> I have numerous other stories on my computer that never make it out because I didn't care to share them. I'd rather keep this one up and coming because it seems to be popular enough and well-liked for the most part.


	5. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note the rating change. Things got a bit real in this chapter. 
> 
> I am going to say this because I have gotten comments on this in the past. Harry doesn't act as she does in the books. One, she's a girl. Two, she's lived on the streets for ages. Of course her behavior is going to be off. If you don't like it, please don't complain. If you have constructive criticism, feel free to share it. Otherwise, don't. I'm writing this because I want to, and thought others might want to read what I am reading. 
> 
> Part of the reason it took so long for me to update was because I got frustrated with some comments. I have a few chapters, hopefully, already written. 
> 
> And to everyone else who has commented and liked/read this story, thanks for doing so and I hope you enjoy it as much as I do!

The first time Harry was propositioned, she all but scoffed at them and hurried away, cradling Teddy close to her for the extra warmth. Sherlock’s shirt looked much too slutty, and that was what the men on the streets assumed she was. 

A few days later, when she was still unable to get food for Teddy and the temperature grew so cold even Teddy was shivering, cocooned inside her shirt, she agreed. She was taken into a dark alley and she sat Teddy down in a dumpster so he wouldn’t have to see anything.

It was cold, rough, and dirty, and so degrading, but Harry walked away from it with enough money to feed Teddy for a few days. She swore that would be the only time.

Another few days later, she accepted once more, Teddy hiding in yet another dumpster as she was taken roughly against an alley wall. This guy had a friend, who once the first guy was done, offered to pay her if he could have her as well. 

Between the two of them, she was able to buy a blanket to wrap Teddy in. 

Three weeks after running from the hospital, she started coughing. She willed with all of her magic for Teddy not to get it and her magic seemed to be keeping him from it. 

It was approaching four weeks on the streets this time when the man propositioned her. Teddy was already in the dumpster waiting, so he could stay warm and she could keep him safe. When the man approached her and whispered a deep, “how much?”, she’d given him the number and allowed him to drag her into the alley. 

He wasn’t rough, she noted dully. She held back her coughs, as she usually did. No one wanted her if she was coughing, and she had to be able to afford to feed Teddy. 

He finished and instead of pulling out, zipping up his pants and tucking the money into her shirt pocket before disappearing, as they all did, he leaned against the wall, resting his head above hers. 

“It’s time to go home,” he said, voice at a normal volume now.

And she recognized it. 

Sherlock. 

Her eyes widened and she looked up quickly, eyes meeting his. He was watching her, his eyes calculating. He tucked the money into her shirt, just like they all did, but he didn’t pull away. 

“Where’s Teddy?” he asked her.

“In the dumpster,” Harry said, holding back another cough. 

Sherlock shrugged out of his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders, lifting her off the ground as he tucked the jacket entirely around her. 

“Wrap your legs around me here. You’re freezing,” Sherlock told her. Harry dutifully did as she was told. She was used to orders by this point. Sherlock shifted her slightly before moving to the dumpster, swiftly opening it and pulling a wide-eyed Teddy out. Sherlock slid Teddy in between him and her before allowing her to lean her head back right under his chin. 

Harry was more or less half asleep as Sherlock climbed into a taxi and took them away. Harry was tired – she could have tried to fight but she didn’t have the fight in her at the moment. At the very least, maybe she could get her bag back from Sherlock and hole herself and Teddy up in a hotel for awhile. 

The next thing she knew, she was being lowered into a tub, Teddy next to her. Sherlock helped her unbutton the shirt and laid it on the floor next to the tub along with Teddy’s clothes before running the water. He then left the room, coming back in a few minutes with clothes in his arms. 

Harry seemed to drift off, only waking up slightly when she felt herself being placed in a bed. And then it was only for a few moments before her eyelids slid shut and she curled up around Teddy, fast asleep. 

***

As soon as Harry had fallen asleep in his bed, he dialed Mary’s number. Him and Mary had been working together the last few weeks to get Harry back, ever since it became obvious that John’s mood would not improve until Harry was returned. Within a week, Sherlock had gone out and bought both Harry and Teddy some clothes, placing them in his own closet so she’d have clothes once he found her and brought her back. 

“Hello?”

“Mary. I found her,” Sherlock said. Silence filled the phone.

“Was she where we thought she was?” Mary asked hesitantly.

“Yes. She appears to have turned to prostitution to keep her and Teddy alive,” Sherlock said, a frown tugging on his lips. 

“How did you convince her to come back?” Mary wanted to know.

“I didn’t. I propositioned her and once she was done, I told her we were going home. She was cold and tired, and the pneumonia’s gotten worse. She knows it. She didn’t fight me. I helped her bathe and slipped her into the new clothes before putting them both to sleep in my bed. I’m going to have Molly bring over some medicine for her. Tell John in about an hour?” Sherlock suggested.

“If I tell him in an hour, you can expect him over at the house in an hour and five minutes,” Mary warned him.

“See you then,” Sherlock finished before hanging up. He called Molly as well and she agreed to bring the medicine over. 

He was just about to head back to the room to check on Harry once more when there was a knocking on the door. Sherlock peeked in the room, content to see that Harry was still asleep. Teddy was up, though, and staring at him. Sherlock picked up a marker and wrote, “He’s safe. He’s with me,” on her hand before scooping Teddy up and walking back into the living room. 

Standing at the door was a woman and much younger man. Not husband and wife, Sherlock noted. Mother and son. The son was unmarried, appearing to be around twenty. The mother was young as well, a young mother – had the son right out of school. Both were rich – extremely wealthy family. They also seemed uncomfortable in their clothes – as if they were undercover and wearing clothes below their social status. 

“Your landlady said we could come on up. You are the detective, yes? Sherlock…Holmes?” the woman asked him. Sherlock nodded, stepping aside. Both walked in, eyeing the place with barely concealed distaste. 

“If you don’t mind waiting one moment, my son just woke from his nap. I have to get him some food,” Sherlock said. The woman nodded, a small smile tugging onto her lips.

“Yes. I do remember that age. Always hungry. Right terrors if they aren’t fed as soon as they get hungry,” she said. Sherlock nodded, making his way into the kitchen. On top of clothes for them, Sherlock had also gotten all the baby stuff he would need. A high chair and food being part of that. He knew they’d be back sometime – he wanted them to be, so he’d make sure of it. He settled Teddy into the high chair. He quickly found some food and placed it on the tray, not quite sure how to handle it. 

He rolled the chair backwards into the main room, sitting down in his chair with the high chair next to him. Teddy stared down at the food dubiously, as if he didn’t know what to do with it. 

“What are you looking for?” Sherlock asked. They had to be looking for an object. They didn’t appear to be searching for a person, unless it was a suspected affair of the husband. The son looked like he’d been through an ordeal lately, but the mother seemed entirely too calm. 

“You might want to break the food up smaller. He’ll choke otherwise,” the woman suggested. Sherlock turned to Teddy, noting that he was tearing up his own pieces slowly. 

“He’s got it,” Sherlock said with a shrug. And he did. Teddy must’ve seen Harry do it enough and realized it had to be like that for him to eat it. He was a bright child. 

“We’re looking for someone, actually,” the woman said. 

“Right, Mrs….” Sherlock drifted off. Most of the time, the people introduced themselves earlier on. Sherlock didn’t like having to prompt them.

“Black. Narcissa Black. And this is my son, Draco Black,” she said smoothly.

“Wrong,” Sherlock declared.

“Excuse me?” Narcissa asked, looking highly insulted.

“Your son’s name. It doesn’t blend as it would if that were his birth name, and he looked uncomfortable when you mentioned it,” Sherlock observed.

“We recently changed both of our names to my maiden name. We were the last branch of the family left and wanted to take it over but had to revoke my marriage to my husband to do so. It was of no concern. We were already wanting to rid ourselves of him,” Narcissa said with the wave of a hand. 

“This person you’re searching for. It’s not the former husband?” Sherlock asked for clarification.

“Indeed it is not. We know where he is,” Narcissa said calmly. Draco looked uncomfortable at the words. 

“Prison,” Sherlock supplied. It was a guess, but judging by the looks of surprise on both of their faces it was a correct one. 

“Yes. The person we’re looking for is…family,” Narcissa said delicately. 

“Family is stretching it,” Sherlock pointed out.

“Yes. It is. We’re looking for a woman my son’s age, and the child she’s in charge of,” Narcissa said.

Sherlock’s blood ran cold. 

“Child she’s in charge of? Is it not her child?” Sherlock asked, feigning interest as he tried to figure out where to lead the conversation.

“No. It’s her godson. The godson is my nephew. She is not of our blood, but he is. The two have been on the run for over a year and a half now. We only just realized they were not safely hiding away as we had presumed,” Narcissa said. 

“Why are they on the run?” Sherlock asked. It would be nice to know this information, he decided, so long as he could keep them from suspicion. 

“Our…village…turned on them. There was a man who killed a few people, and when he was killed the town started rounding up anyone who was ever near him and arresting them. My son was arrested through this, as was my husband. My son was only just released. The town turned on the girl, though, because she killed the man. I believe they wanted to deliver justice to him themselves. A dear friend of ours disappeared to escape being wrongfully accused, and she disappeared around the same time. We assumed he had taken her with him, but when we contacted him upon Draco’s release from prison, we found out he lost her soon after they separated,” Narcissa said, hands crossed primly in her lap. 

“I have heard of this incident. I heard it was an entire community, in place of a village,” Sherlock said. Draco’s eyebrows shot up.

“So you’ve heard about it?” he asked in disbelief.

“A friend’s fiancée explained a good deal of the situation to me, yes. This friend of yours. How did he loose contact with her? When did it occur?” Sherlock asked.

“It occurred eighteen months ago. She was sent off to hide in London with a communication device, but when our friend attempted to contact her he found that the communication device had been broken. She had money, but no way of using her identity,” Narcissa explained.

“And what do you plan on doing with her upon finding her and the child?” Sherlock wanted to know.

“Deliver her to our friend. He has her identity lined up, and a safe home for her in France. I have been working in the ministry of our community and trying to misplace anything to discriminate her so she can come home to Britain as soon as possible. We just want them safe,” Narcissa explained. 

“And what are their names? Do you have a photo?” Sherlock asked. Narcissa opened her purse and pulled out a photo, handing it to Sherlock. 

There was Harry, smiling at the camera as she held a tiny Teddy up. Only it didn’t quite look like Teddy. The child had bright blue hair and brown eyes. Still, most of the facial features were the same as Teddy’s. 

Which was not a good thing. 

Sherlock examined the picture for a moment before looking up at Narcissa, then Draco.

“The child’s features are too nondescript to find. He has the same facial features as both of you. But he also has the same features as I do. And my son,” Sherlock pointed out, hoping to drag any possible suspicions away. 

“Of course he does,” Draco said, as if it was common sense. 

“What my son means to say, Mr. Holmes, is that it is a very distinctive set of features. You and your son have them because you are also part of the family. Your grandmother, I believe, was disowned for the family due to a certain character trait that developed over time. You have Black blood in you as well,” Narcissa explained. 

So his branch of the family was disowned, just like John’s had been. This was very fascinating. He couldn’t wait to start investigating this. 

“So this child is actually related to me? The one you want me to track down?” Sherlock asked for clarification.

“Yes. The child is – the girl is not,” Narcissa informed him. Sherlock glanced over at Teddy for a moment, noting that all the food was gone and he was sucking on his hand, eyes glued to Sherlock. 

“Are you still hungry?” Sherlock asked him. Teddy’s eyes went wide and he continued to stare.

“Would you like me get you some more food from the kitchen?” Sherlock tried rephrasing it. Teddy slowly nodded, as if he was unsure if that was the correct answer. 

“Pardon me,” Sherlock said, hurrying into the kitchen and coming back with a bowl of fruit from the fridge. 

“Your son is very well-behaved,” Narcissa commented when he reentered the room.

“Yes. He is,” Sherlock said, setting the food down in front of Teddy. Teddy started eating, but held out a piece of the fruit to Sherlock.

Sherlock could bet that that was the only way Harry had eaten any food in the last month. And Teddy was smart enough to realize that. Sherlock took the food and, hiding his grimace, stuck the strawberry in his mouth. Teddy seemed content at the gesture and started eating himself.

“He seems very…aware. And concerned,” Narcissa added, almost looking worried.

“Unfortunately, I have a habit of not eating when on a case. His mother is similar. Theo’s very observant and has decided the only way we’ll eat is if he feeds us,” Sherlock said. 

“Anyway, you never gave me the names,” Sherlock pointed out. Narcissa glanced at Draco, who sighed.

“Just tell him their names. He can’t do anything if he doesn’t know who he’s looking for,” Draco pointed out, irritated. 

“My nephew’s name is Teddy Lupin, and the girl is Harry Potter.”

***

The words had only just left her mouth when the door was wretched open, Molly standing there with a stick pointed at them, her bag in the other hand. Both Draco and Narcissa pulled out sticks as well, pointing them at her. 

“What do you want here?” Molly spat at them, eyes narrowed on the two. 

“It’s none of your concern. We were here in disguise. Thank you for breaking the statute of secrecy,” Narcissa said scathingly. 

“How am I supposed to react? You’re dangerous. You were on You-Know-Who’s side!” Molly pointed out. Sherlock filed their words away to be analyzed later. What he was picking up on was that the sticks were weapons of some sort. And his gun was across the room. 

Teddy was trying to climb out of his seat, Sherlock noticed. He kept an eye on both groups and undid the buckle, settling Teddy on the ground. He turned to fully face the two as a light seemed to come out of Molly’s stick at Narcissa. Some other light came from Narcissa’s stick, causing Molly’s light to bounce off of some sort of shield.

And head straight for an oblivious Teddy.

Sherlock wasn’t sure what the light was, but he knew it couldn’t be good. He needed to protect Teddy from it. And he couldn’t quite do that by jumping in front of it. He needed something to shield them, like what had shielded Narcissa. 

Something warm inside of him spread through his body at the thought and the light stopped inches from Teddy, vanishing into nothing. Sherlock was on the floor in an instant, quickly checking to make sure Teddy was alright. He just stared up at Sherlock, as if not comprehending what the big deal was. 

“He’s a bit young to be producing accidental magic to that degree,” Draco said uncomfortably. 

“He wasn’t even looking. Theo didn’t react at all. He didn’t do it,” Narcissa said, eyes glued to Sherlock. 

“Sherlock? What did you do?” Molly asked, her voice small. 

“I didn’t do anything. I wanted it to hit an invisible shield like what happened to Narcissa, without it damaging Teddy or myself since I had no clue as to the effects of being hit by such a light,” Sherlock stated, lifting Teddy onto his hip. 

“I thought you said he was a squib!” Draco hissed at his mother. 

“Has…anything like that happened to you before?” Molly asked. She was having a hard time getting words out, Sherlock noted. 

“Science usually answers any questions I have about the going-ons around me,” Sherlock said drily. Molly turned to Narcissa, wand still up.

“What do you mean, you thought he was a squib? His family’s muggle,” Molly hissed.

“His family is a disowned branch of the Ancient and Noble family of Black,” Narcissa said, straightening her back even more as she did. 

“That explains the attitudes,” Molly murmured before shaking her head. 

“Now, I have some questions, if you all wouldn’t mind sitting down,” Sherlock ordered. The lot of them didn’t look very comfortable but did as he said. 

“Now, from the information I’ve gathered, I’d wager that being a squib causes people to be cast out of families in your community. I can’t say I know what it is, but it must be similar to that of a Muggle, who has no connection to your community,” Sherlock deduced. 

“A squib is someone who doesn’t have magic, despite being born in a family with magic. A Muggle is someone without any magical heritage and no magical power,” Narcissa said coolly. 

“Magic?” Sherlock scoffed. Narcissa waved her stick and caused a book on his table to turn into a flower.

“Yes. Magic,” she said flatly. Sherlock picked up the flower and started examining it intently. It looked exactly like a flower.

Teddy squealed at the sight and reached for the flower. Sherlock kept it firmly out of reach – only for the flower to float out of his hand and into Teddy’s. It wavered slightly but made it to him. Teddy wasted no time in shoving the flower into his mouth.

“No!” Sherlock commanded briskly, tugging the flower from Teddy’s mouth. 

“What’s on his wrist?” Draco asked.

“I don’t know. His mother put it on him. Said it stays on,” Sherlock said honestly. 

“It looks like a suppressant. I’d say a magical suppressant,” Narcissa said. 

“How long have you known the child’s mother?” Narcissa asked suspiciously. She seemed to be making connections. 

“She’s my friend John’s sister. You see how big Theo is. I’d say I’ve known her about three years,” Sherlock said drily. 

“And you didn’t know Theo could do magic?” Molly asked in disbelief.

“You should know I don’t see them often,” Sherlock pointed out.

“So she must have magic as well, and is trying to keep it from you. I’d say his bracelet needs updating if he’s still able to do magic without it,” Narcissa finished. 

“John’s from a family like mine. A squib family off of a wealthy family – I’d guess they are magical as well, since his father was disowned without John knowing the reason. They died twenty-one years ago,” Sherlock said.

All three of them winced.

“So it is connected. Fascinating,” Sherlock murmured. He turned to Molly.

“You should go check on Harry. When John gets here, he’s going to want to see his sister and we won’t be able to get the medicine in her then,” Sherlock said. He watched Narcissa and Draco out of the corner of his eyes as he said it. Both sets of eyes widened. 

“Not the same Harry, mind you,” Sherlock told them. He pretended to think for a moment.

“However, we are pretty certain that she is related to the Harry you’re searching for. For a moment I’d thought the photo is of my Harry. This Harry. I noticed in your photo she was wearing glasses. No contacts?” Sherlock asked, mind whirling.

“We don’t know exactly what those are,” Narcissa said delicately. Sherlock nodded.

“I see. My Harry wears colored contacts. Said she saw someone similar to her years back and thought green would look better on her than her hazel eyes did. So she’s recently switched to colored contacts,” Sherlock said with a smile. 

“That is quite the coincidence,” Narcissa said, but Sherlock could see she was not believing him. 

About that time, the door burst open once more. John stormed in, Mary following behind him. Her eyes widened at the sight of Narcissa and Draco, even more when she saw the sticks they all had out. Sherlock had deduced by that point that the sticks conducted this magic they spoke of. 

And Mary knew about it, yet she didn’t pull a stick out. Perhaps she was also from a squib family. 

“Where is she?” John asked angrily.

“She’s sleeping. Molly’s giving her some medicine to get rid of the pneumonia. She’ll be fine,” Sherlock said. John stared at him, calculating. 

“We have a new case,” he said, gesturing to Narcissa and Draco.

“What is it?” John asked suspiciously. He assumed Sherlock was trying to switch the subject. And he was. Just not in the way John was expecting. 

“Remember when Mary told us about how Harry had a doppelganger that looked just like her in the community Mary was explaining?” Sherlock asked. John’s features shut down at the words.

“Yes?” he asked.

“They want us to find her for them,” Sherlock said. 

“I’d rather we didn’t. If she’s our cousin, as I suspect, I’d rather not drag her back to be punished,” John said drily. 

“They claim they’re trying to help her into hiding,” Sherlock said. 

“I’m sorry, but I’d rather we spend our time helping my sister,” John emphasized. 

“I agree, Sherlock. You may not realize it, but Harry’s been through a traumatic time,” Mary said gently.

“I do realize it. Her and Theo need time to adjust to living here. After all, no child of mine is growing up on the streets,” Sherlock said with a tone of finality. He bounced Teddy slightly at his words. John seemed to catch on quickly to what he was saying. Surprisingly quickly, considering it was John. 

“Why were they on the streets in the first place?” Draco asked, eyes drilling into them.

“I made a grave error. Harry is a bit afraid of commitment, what with her father dying on her when she was young. I asked her a question she was not ready to hear,” Sherlock said. 

“What kind of question?” Draco pressed.

“I asked her to marry me. It was too soon,” Sherlock said, shaking his head. He didn’t get a chance to act often, but he sure enjoyed it when he did. 

“You did what?” John asked, staring at him.

“Do you see why I wouldn’t tell you the details?” Mary asked. Sherlock had to admit, Mary was very good at adapting. 

“I think we all know you’re lying.” Narcissa’s cool voice cut through the group. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sherlock said, keeping his eyes on her. 

“We are only trying to get Harry to safety. Our friend enlisted in our help for this,” Narcissa argued.

“As I don’t have any proof behind your outlandish theories, I must ask you to leave. I have a soon-to-be fiancée to nurse back to health if I’m in any hopes of making her my wife. Good day,” Sherlock said firmly. The two of them reluctantly rose and headed for the door.

As soon as they left, Sherlock turned and all but skipped into the kitchen with Teddy.

“Sherlock, you don’t believe that nonsense, do you?” John asked him in disbelief.

“I believe I’ve got a lot of experimenting to do,” Sherlock said gleefully as he held up a hair from Narcissa and another from Draco.


	6. Chapter 5

“Mum?”

Harry’s eyes shot open at Teddy’s voice. Teddy didn’t talk much – when he did, it tended to be important. 

Teddy was looming over her, his own eyes wide. Harry tried sitting up, only to wince.

There was another IV in her arm.

But she wasn’t in the hospital. There were no machines. No; she was in a bedroom.

Sherlock’s bedroom?

Yes. Sherlock’s bedroom. Her mind whirled at the thought. And he hadn’t taken her to a hospital. He’d…brought a hospital to her? She watched the IV for a moment before pulling Teddy closer with her free hand. 

“Are you hungry?” Harry asked Teddy. He shook his head quickly.

“Ate food,” he said before holding out a piece of mush to her. Harry took it from him.

It was a strawberry. Or, it had been a strawberry before Teddy had kept it in his hand for however long he’d had it. Harry went ahead and put it in her mouth, knowing Teddy wouldn’t rest if she didn’t. She knew without a doubt that she had a little Hufflepuff on her hands. 

If he’d be allowed to go.

Harry swallowed at the thought. She couldn’t allow those thoughts. It was much too early to worry about it. 

Harry eased herself into a sitting position, examining the IV. She could move it. It was on a fold-out stand. With much patience, Harry stood, allowing Teddy to stand next to her. The two of them walked out of the bedroom, listening carefully for any sounds as they did.

Sure enough, someone was arguing in the kitchen. 

John.

“I just don’t understand any of this!” John was saying. 

“I just showed you evidence that Harry is in fact your cousin. That’s DNA. You know DNA, don’t you?” Sherlock’s biting voice retorted. 

“So you’re saying I’m this…squib….whatever the hell that is?” John said. 

Harry’s eyes widened.

“That is the word we were given. I’ll need to analyze your blood next and see if I can find any certain little tells that show a difference between you and Harry before I can determine what this so-called magic is,” Sherlock said. 

“I’ve never found a tell. Trust me. I’ve looked,” a woman’s voice that Harry didn’t recognize responded with. 

“What I want to know is what we plan on doing to protect Harry now? Those two were certain they knew who she was. We can get her some contacts soon so she matches my sister identically,” John suggested.

“Yes. Already on that. Hillsdime is on his way over to figure out her prescription and leave with us colored contacts for her,” Sherlock said, sounding bored already. 

“What if they look into my sister though?” John worried. 

“They shouldn’t,” Sherlock said.

“But what if they do?” John persisted.

“John, don’t worry. They won’t even think to do that. It’s not in their culture,” Mary reassured him. 

“You can come in the kitchen, you know. We are, in fact, discussing how to help you. You might be able to offer us some pointers,” Sherlock’s voice was distinctively louder this time, directed to carry over to Harry. Silence followed his words.

Harry slowly made her way into the room, dragging the IV stand alongside her and Teddy.

“What are you doing out of bed? You should be resting!” John said, immediately on his feet. He led her by the arm to the seat he had just vacated and eased her into it.

“I’m fine,” Harry responded automatically. She noticed that the other woman there was the same person she’d seen with Sherlock at the hospital when she’d escaped, last month. 

“Two people came looking for you. Wanted me to find you for them. Told us about magic and such. Narcissa and Draco Black,” Sherlock said. 

“What?” Harry asked, eyes wide.

“They said they were there to help you get to whomever it was that abandoned you on the streets without proper communication,” Sherlock said disdainfully. 

“But Draco was in Az – prison,” Harry corrected quickly.

“He was just released. Father still there,” Sherlock informed her. 

“But you do know them?” John persisted.

“Yes. They were bad. But they helped me in the end. I…I think they’re on my side,” Harry said, but she couldn’t feel 100% about it. Not when Teddy’s life was on the line as well as her own.

“We informed them that you are Harry Watson, John’s apparently magical sister, and that Theo here is our son,” Sherlock said.

“Theo?” Harry asked.

“Yes. When they showed me a photo, I figured I’d have to slightly change his name. Nothing too drastic, yet something less like him,” Sherlock said. Sherlock looked up from his microscope, staring intently at Harry.

“Speaking of which, Theo’s hair was blue in the photo. Blue, and he had hazel eyes,” Sherlock said.

“Yes,” Harry agreed uncomfortably.

“Did you use magic to disguise him? Why didn’t you use magic to disguise yourself?” Sherlock wanted to know. 

“How did you hear about….magic?” Harry asked tentatively.

“Molly burst in the room, stick in the air, and the other two pulled out sticks as well. They had to explain things,” Sherlock drawled.

“And Sherlock has his own magic, it appears,” the woman Sherlock had referred to as Molly informed her. 

“I was also informed that my family came from the Black family. A disowned branch, much like John’s must have been to the Potter family,” Sherlock said. Harry stared at him.

Really stared at him.

He did have eyes the exact shade as Draco, Harry realized. And his mass of curls were similar to the other Black’s she’d met. No wonder Teddy’s hair had resembled his. It was more of Teddy’s base form than she’d realized. 

“I see,” was all Harry could muster. 

“You’re overwhelming her,” Mary pointed out. 

“We need to figure out how to keep her safe,” John pointed out.

“What I don’t understand is why you told me she was John’s sister when she’s not. When she’s really Harry Potter,” Molly said. 

“Because we were trying to keep her a secret. She looks just like Harriet, just with green eyes. Something we’ll fix in a few minutes,” Sherlock pointed out.

“So he’s not really your son? He is Teddy Lupin?” Molly asked for clarification.

“At the moment. I’m working on that. As soon as I have something Mycroft wants, I’ll have records falsified and Theo Holmes will come into existence,” Sherlock said firmly. 

“Why?” Harry asked, staring at them.

“Why what?” John asked, waiting for her to continue.

“Why are you all…helping me?” Harry asked.

“Because we want to. You’re family,” John said with a smile.

“I like the child. He seems halfway intelligent,” Sherlock said offhandedly. 

“He also wants to study magic, now that he’s found himself doing it,” Mary added, a smile twisting on her lips.

“That is an added bonus, I’ll admit,” Sherlock agreed. 

“Something that didn’t quite make sense to me earlier was your question. Did you really ask her to marry you?” John asked Sherlock. 

“What?” Harry asked in disbelief.

“John, that was a lie. He was trying to get rid of them. He laid a claim on Harry in saying that. He was trying to scare them off,” Mary tried explaining. 

“However, it does bring up a good point. It would mask your identity that much more. On top of that, Mummy might stop trying to convince Mycroft and myself that she needs grandchildren,” Sherlock mused. 

“You’re already there, remember? You’re claiming the child as yours – Mrs. Holmes gets a grandchild,” John said. 

“Ah, but Mummy has a sense of honor. She’ll then want us to be married, for propriety’s sake,” Sherlock said with a grimace.

“You can hold her off, I’m sure,” John said.

“I could, indeed. Ah! He’s here,” Sherlock said as someone knocked on the door. Sherlock was on his feet and out of the kitchen in a heartbeat. Seconds later he led another man into the room. The man had a large briefcase that he sat up on the table. He popped it open and held a chart up. 

“Read me as far down as you can,” the man said. Harry blinked at him for a moment before looking at the chart. She started to squint at it, only for Sherlock to lightly smack her arm.

“Don’t squint. That messes with the results,” he chided her. 

“I can’t read any of it,” Harry admitted in return. The man frowned.

“Can you tell there are letters?” he persisted.

“The top one has a lot of black ink. I can’t really seem much other than a few smudges on the next line,” Harry admitted, feeling small. 

“I don’t think I’ll have the right prescription then. I have one that might be close enough to manage for a few weeks until we can get a new pair in. Try these,” he said, handing her a tiny case. She stared at it.

“What do I do with it?” she asked. 

“You put them in your eyes,” Sherlock said with a sigh. 

“Don’t be an ass. Here,” John said, kneeling next to her. Mary handed him something and he held a mirror out right in front of her face before unscrewing one side of the case. 

“Now, get it out. Yes. Notice how the sides are curled up? That means it’s the wrong side. Yes. Now hold your eye open as wide as you can without blinking and place the contact over the center of your eye,” John instructed as Harry nervously did as he asked. 

The entire world blurred. She blinked hastily, trying to clear it up.

“Put the second one in now. Otherwise you’ll feel disoriented,” John warned her lightly. Harry did as he asked, repeating the process for the second contact. 

And she was blown away by how much she could see. Everything was clearer than it ever had been. Her previous glasses had never been a very strong prescription – she feared they were nothing more than reading glasses her relatives had bought her, and she’d never thought to mention it to anyone. 

“I should have the new contacts done in a week,” the man was saying.

“These are perfect,” Harry breathed. 

“You still shouldn’t be able to see as much as you could,” the man said, but Harry shook her head.

“I’ve never seen this clearly before. They’re amazing!” she said, her smile threatening to break her face in half. 

Sherlock and the man talked for a few minutes before the man handed Sherlock something else and left, briefcase firmly in hand.

“But you had glasses,” Molly pointed out. Harry frowned; oh. She had grown up hearing about Harry. 

“My relatives bought me those. I suspect they were nothing better than reading glasses,” Harry said with a sigh. 

“And you never thought to get a better prescription?” John asked.

“Why would I? I was told that they would fix my vision. I assumed that was all anyone could see,” Harry said with a shrug.

“These relatives. You haven’t mentioned them before,” Sherlock said, eyes immediately on her.

“I tend not to, no,” Harry agreed, not offering any more information. The less she could say about the Dursley’s, the better.

“Are they the cause of the scars on your back and shoulders?” Sherlock asked.

“Scars?” Molly asked, eyes wide.

“Some of them,” Harry admitted. 

“Are they related to me as well?” John asked.

“No. They are my mother’s family,” Harry said, swallowing as she said the words. 

“Why was Teddy’s hair blue?” Sherlock said finally, bringing her attention back to a previously asked question.

“He’s a metamorphmagus,” Molly said plainly. 

“So he can morph himself?” Sherlock said, unravelling the word.

“Basically, yes,” Molly agreed. 

“How do you know about all of this?” John asked his fiancée.

“My family is like the two of yours. Only my mother was a witch. So I know all this already, despite not having magic myself,” Mary explained.

“That’s not important,” Sherlock said, waving them off.

“Is this a conscious choice of Theo’s? Or is it instinct?” Sherlock wanted to know.

“Instinct,” Harry said. 

“Then how are you able to keep him from doing it? I’ve never seen his hair change colors,” Sherlock pointed out. Harry swallowed and took the bracelet off of Teddy’s wrist. Teddy glanced at Harry for a moment, then at the others. Harry nodded to him.

“Go ahead,” she told him. It had been awhile since the bracelet had been off. Teddy wasted no time in flashing his hair though six colors before settling on a baby blue. 

“Whoa. His face is changing. Is it supposed to?” John asked uneasily.

“It’s a bit uncomfortable for him to hold a form so long,” Harry admitted. 

“Do you know his base form?” Molly asked, moving closer.

“I suspect it is close to the form he was in. I’ve tried to keep him near that same form to keep from arousing suspicions,” Harry admitted. Mary moved closer, smiling at Teddy.

“Teddy? Can you go to your comfortable form?” Mary asked him. Teddy stared at her for a moment before sighing and allowing his body to morph. 

Only to keep the baby blue hair.

“Assume his hair is black. He prefers the blue, just as his mother preferred the pink,” Harry said with a soft smile. 

“His eyes are amber. Otherwise, with black hair he could be my son,” Sherlock said with a nod.

“He got his eyes from his father,” Harry said fondly.

“That’s all he got from his father, correct?” Molly asked suspiciously.

“He would have received much more from his father. Why does that alarm you?” Sherlock asked, staring Molly down.

“His father was a werewolf,” Molly all but hissed. 

“Which is one of the reasons we had to run. Teddy is not a werewolf. He has some wolfish traits, but the child is the sweetest you’d ever meet. He is not a werewolf,” Harry pointed out. Sherlock moved closer, prying Teddy’s unsuspecting mouth open. He felt at the teeth in his mouth.

“Hmm. Canines are slightly longer than normal but not sharp enough to do much. The amber color is wolfish. I can test this. Theo, can you go back to black hair but keep this look?” Sherlock asked him, keeping his voice level. Teddy regarded him for a moment before his hair shifted. Sherlock swiftly plucked a hair from his head and moved to the table, labelling the hair in a tiny back before wiping his finger…on a microscope slide?

“I’ll examine the DNA later to see how this werewolf gene thing works,” Sherlock announced. 

“Shift back now. Bracelet needs to go on,” Harry told Teddy regretfully. Teddy turned his wide eyes on Harry, begging.

“You know why,” Harry said with a sigh.

“Don’t like it,” Teddy mumbled.

“I know. I don’t either. Shift back to mini-Sherlock,” Harry told him. Teddy pouted at her but did as she asked.

“So that’s why he looked like my clone,” Sherlock said.

“Indeed. That was the point. You’d seen him. Others have seen him. He has to stay the same,” Harry explained.

“Why didn’t you just cast a notice-me-not charm on him?” Molly asked.

“Yeah. I haven’t seen you with one of those sticks,” John pointed out.

“It’s called a wand,” Mary corrected him gently.

“I don’t have one,” Harry said. 

“What?” Molly asked in disbelief.

“It snapped when my portkey dropped me here. My wand and my communication mirror shattered when I hit a fire escape in my landing,” Harry said with a wince. 

“That’s why you didn’t have a house. If you had your wand, you coulda confundled someone and bought a house,” Molly said slowly.

“Everyone needed paperwork and a name. I couldn’t give it to them,” Harry explained grimly. 

“How much longer until Harry can be taken off the IV?” Sherlock asked Molly suddenly.

“Er…now,” Molly said after examining the bag.

“Good,” Sherlock said, leaping to his feet. He gently pulled the IV from her arm and hung it up, helping Harry to her feet.

“Slip on some clothes. I’m taking you out to eat,” Sherlock said.

“WHAT?” John exclaimed.

“You’re the one whose always telling me to eat more. Me and Harry need to eat. So I’m taking her out,” Sherlock said, shrugging his coat on. He gave Harry a light shove towards his room.

“Right side of the closet and the middle two drawers are yours. Bottom two are Theo’s. Go on!” Sherlock urged them. 

“Why can’t we all just eat here?” John asked.

“Oh no. You misunderstood. We’re not going out to eat. Just me and Harry are. And Theo. He’s an unfortunate tagalong,” Sherlock said, earning a glare from an aware Teddy. 

“I thought you said you needed to keep her from your brother. And keep her out of public’s sight,” Mary pointed out. 

“Normally, yes. However, what we need right now is names for them. Your sister’s name will only last so long. Mycroft will spot them on the feed and research them quickly. Her appearance will match your sister, which will confuse him when he finds your sister elsewhere. He’ll be here within the evening. Now, is there any records of Theo’s birth?” Sherlock asked.

“Probably not. Not where your brother can find it,” Harry admitted quietly.

“Then he’ll connect dots and make a deduction involving Theo, myself, and you. He’ll arrive with Theo’s identity in his briefcase, along with a marriage certificate which we can easily ignore,” Sherlock explained as he reached his room. He gave Harry one last shove and closed the door behind her and Teddy.

“What do you mean, she has clothes in your closet and drawers?” Molly asked, eyes wide at his behavior.

“I wanted her back so I went ahead and arranged for everything to be set up when she did return,” Sherlock said.

“In your room? Not in my old room, where you were going to have her stay?” John pointed out, crossing his arms. 

“Of course not. Your room was too far away. If I am to keep a proper eye on them, they need to be in my room. It’s not as if I sleep often anyway,” Sherlock reminded him. 

“You’re going to overwhelm the girl!” John hissed.

“She doesn’t seem overwhelmed to me,” Sherlock mused.

“Of course she doesn’t! She’s got enough medicine in her system that I doubt much of anything is sinking in! She would have already taken off running if she had been completely here,” John pointed out. 

“Maybe I should keep some of this medicine around more often,” Sherlock thought aloud.

“No! You can’t drug her! Just…no! I will move her and Teddy – Theo – in with me and Mary if you so much as suggest that again!” John threatened, eyes flashing. 

“I doubt she’d be happy to be living in a house with newlyweds, once you get married,” Sherlock scoffed.

“Better than being drugged by you!” John sputtered angrily.

“John, I know you missed her, but give Sherlock a chance,” Mary urged.

“If she’s not John’s sister, why did he miss her so much?” Molly asked curiously.

“He isn’t close with his family and felt like Harry was his second chance to become close to them. He didn’t react well when I let her run off,” Sherlock said, waving his hand.

“You all but forced her out of here!” John boomed at him. 

“Unnecessary semantics,” Sherlock waved it off once more. 

“Necessary semantics!” John retorted angrily. 

“Boys,” Mary chided, nodding towards the door. Harry stood there, looking undecisive. As if she were contemplating running with Teddy or waiting it out. 

“Where’s my purse?” she asked Sherlock, gripping Teddy’s hand tightly in hers. 

“Did you get her any normal clothes, or are they all outfits like yours?” John asked Sherlock.

“I got her outfits that looked nice,” Sherlock defended himself before stepping towards Harry. Standing on the side opposite of Teddy, he gently turned her and pointed her into the living room, towards the bookshelf.

“Behind Shakespeare’s complete volume on the fourth shelf,” he informed her. Harry nodded and moved quickly, shifting the books without disturbing anything else on the shelf. She pulled the crossbody purse out and slipped it on. 

“I didn’t quite understand why you had a purse. The backpack made sense, but the purse seemed more valuable to you. Especially now when you didn’t even ask after the backpack. I couldn’t open the purse,” Sherlock pointed out.

“No. You couldn’t,” Harry agreed, unzipping it effortlessly and glancing inside. She fumbled around with something before focusing more intently at the contents. When Sherlock moved closer, she closed the bag. 

“It surely cannot contain enough items to hold your interest so intently,” Sherlock scoffed.

“Unless it has a charm on it,” Molly suggested. 

“What kind of ‘charm’ would be on such a bag?” Sherlock scoffed at her. 

“Undetectable extension charm,” Harry supplied tentatively. 

“So it’s bigger on the inside?” Sherlock asked derisively. John let out a laugh behind them. 

“Was that the most sophisticated way you could phrase it, or have you been watching Doctor Who when I wasn’t around?” John asked Sherlock with a grin. Sherlock ignored him effortlessly.

“Yes. It is,” Harry answered when it became obvious that that was what Sherlock was waiting for. 

“Why don’t you have another wand in there?” Molly asked.

“I have two wands. My primary wand snapped and my other…my other is hidden somewhere I can’t get without a wand,” Harry said regretfully.

“Why did you hide it?” Mary asked, staring intently at her.

“Because it’s too powerful. I don’t like it and don’t like having control of that much power,” Harry explained. 

“Does power come from the wands?” Sherlock asked. His eyebrows were furrowed in confusion. 

“No. However, certain wands channel more power. Mine….my hidden one…is the most powerful wand out there,” Harry admitted with a wince.

“And how did you come to possess the most powerful wand?” Sherlock wanted to know. 

“I won it. In a duel,” Harry admitted. 

“Not…Voldemort’s wand?” Molly gasped.

“It was never his wand. I won it before. From Draco. Who won it from Dumbledore, who won it from Grindlewert,” Harry pointed out. Molly just stared at her, mouth gaping. 

“Now, Harry and I have a dinner date,” Sherlock said, placing a hand on her back and gently leading her towards the door. 

“I’m not leaving until you get back,” John swore.

“I didn’t think you would,” Sherlock retorted drily, shutting the door firmly behind them. He then offered Harry his arm.

“Dinner?”


	7. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will warn you, from this point Teddy and Theo start becoming interchangeable. Sorry for the long wait. I don't publish a chapter until I have the one before it fully completed. And Chapter 7 took forever to write. Thanks for all the comments and kudos! I'm glad a lot of people like this story idea. I have a ton of ideas I'm currently working on - I'm glad the current one is so popular!

Sherlock led Harry down the streets and to a small Italian diner, one that looked to be quite full.

“Are you certain we can get a table here?” Harry asked dubiously, tightening her grip on Teddy.

“Of course we can. I have a standing reservation,” Sherlock told her, one corner of his mouth twitching upward in the semblance of a smile.

Sure enough, there was a table with his name on it. Not just on a card – the name was actually engraved on the table. Harry stared at it in disbelief. 

“What did you do?” she asked him. The other corner of his mouth rose. Before the words could leave his mouth, a large man came bounding over, wide grin on his face.

“Sherlock! You’ve brought a date!” he said cheerfully.

“I did,” Sherlock said with a nod.

“A female date,” he emphasized. If he grinned any more, his face would have split in half, Harry surmised. 

“John was never my date. Just a friend,” Sherlock corrected him. 

“My name is Angelo,” the man said with a smile, holding his hand out to Harry. Harry slipped her hand in his.

“This is Harry Watson. And our son, Theo Holmes,” Sherlock said. Angelo’s eyes widened.

“A son?” Angelo asked in disbelief. Sherlock nodded as he picked up the menu. 

“Indeed. I appreciate having a carbon copy of myself around,” Sherlock stated as he perused the menu. 

“What would you like, Harry dear? Angelo makes a fine fettuccini,” Sherlock suggested. Harry nodded. She doubted she would be able to eat much of it – but Teddy could. Teddy could and would eat whatever she offered him. 

“That sounds fantastic. I believe I’ll share with Te-Theo,” Harry corrected herself. Teddy stared up at her dubiously. 

“It’ll taste good,” Harry promised. She’d had a fettuccini once at Hogwarts and it had been quite fantastic. Angelo nodded and wrote it down, turning to Sherlock.

“Same for me. Three glasses of water, as well,” Sherlock said, waving the man off. Sherlock sat the menu down and stared intently at her.

“Now, you seem to have recovered relatively quickly,” Sherlock said.

“Pardon?” Harry managed, staring at him.

“You had pneumonia. Walking pneumonia. Then you lived on the streets for a month with it. Not only did Theo not contract it – we tested him – but you were only a bit worse than you were when you ran off from the hospital. Was that part of your magic?” Sherlock asked her, his voice low.

“I guess. I knew I couldn’t get too sick – I couldn’t help Teddy if I was that bad. And I knew Teddy couldn’t get sick. I willed it to be, and my magic helped,” Harry admitted, her voice equally quiet. 

“So you could do that, but you couldn’t do anything to help yourself? What about creating money?” Sherlock asked.

“Before, I had my bag. It had my money in it. You can’t create money or food,” Harry informed him.

“The others. You told them you didn’t have a…wand. Which I am assuming is what they all used. You can still perform magic without it?” Sherlock asked.

“I can. For the most part. Most people cannot. That’s where it gets complicated,” Harry admitted ruefully. 

“I see. I will have to do my research,” Sherlock mused before smirking at the window. Harry glanced the same way, making sure she didn’t look obvious. Nothing was out there.

“What are you looking at?” Harry asked.

“My brother has spotted us. Took him long enough. It was bad enough, when I brought you and Theo to the hospital last month. Some sort of national crisis distracted him and he never noticed you. But now? This is just sloppy,” Sherlock said disdainfully.

“Before, I thought you wanted to keep me from him?” Harry asked.

“I did. Now I need an identity for Theo. One for you would be nice, but the only identity he will offer me for you is that of my wife. We’ll wait awhile on that one,” Sherlock said. Harry felt a wave of panic well up inside of her. She quickly suppressed it.

“And what if I don’t ever want to?” Harry asked, unconsciously reaching to grip Teddy’s small hand in her own.

“Don’t want to what?” Sherlock asked, his attention shooting back to Harry.

“What if I don’t ever want to marry you?” Harry asked, steadying her voice in a last ditch effort at confidence. 

“I’m afraid you ought to have thought about that before you procreated with my brother.”

The voice came from behind Harry and she had Teddy in her arms as soon as it began. It reminded her of Severus, back in the beginning days when the class he taught was all snarls and hate-filled petty insults. 

“What took you so long in arriving?” Sherlock drawled, leaning back in his seat. The man took a seat in the chair Harry had just tugged Teddy from, a woman standing a foot behind him with her cell phone planted firmly in her hands. 

“Had to run facial recognition. Pesky thing. A couple possible matches. Now. The question is this: are you wearing contacts?” the man asked her.

“She has poor vision. John said he was lucky enough to have inherited his mother’s eyesight,” Sherlock said, rolling his own eyes. 

“But Harriet Watson is not in London. Nor is she heterosexual,” the man said with an air of disdain.

“What do you mean by that? Are you saying that I have no choice? I have to marry him because I had a kid with him? That’s not how society works anymore,” Harry said, not liking what Sherlock’s brother was implying. Especially not since she truly hadn’t had a kid with him. 

That, and she didn’t know how Sherlock planned on distracting him from his current thought process. He had an air to him, Harry decided. An air of authority. And the fact that he was able to hack the CCTV and run facial recognition on her so easily – that alarmed her. Who knew what else he could do?

“The rest of society may be full of degenerates, but the Holmes family is still rather prestigious. We will not have bastards running around,” the man said disdainfully. 

“You will if I have anything to say about it!” Harry shot back, barely managing to keep her voice down as she did. It took a lot of effort to suppress her Gryffindor urges and engage the pompous man in a fist fight right then and there. 

Wow. She hadn’t felt so Gryffindor since the war ended. It was in interesting feeling. 

“I can see the family resemblance. She is uncannily like John, isn’t she? A female John. No wonder she caught your attention,” the man said. 

“Why exactly are you here, Mycroft?” Sherlock asked, finally deeming it worth his time to interrupt the fight Harry had engaged in. 

“Your son is unregistered. There is no records of him. No facial recognition matches, nothing. I don’t know how you managed to hide him and the girl, but you did a great job. However, now that I’ve been informed of this oversight, I’m here to fix it,” the man Sherlock called Mycroft said. 

“Register him then. Theo Holmes. Short for Theodore,” Sherlock said with a wave of his hand.

“What if I don’t want him registered?” Harry asked, glancing between the two brothers.

She did. If she could register him as Theo Holmes, it would mean she would have a safe identity for him to fall back on. However, if she just agreed to it without agreeing to her own identity, she would look suspicious. She had to offer just the right amount of resistance. 

Besides, it wasn’t as if this Mycroft wasn’t going to leave without securing the information he wanted. 

“We already talked about this,” Sherlock warned her, staring at her.

“We may have talked about it, but that doesn’t mean I want it. I’m not registered, and neither was my father. Why should my son be registered? We survived just fine, thank you very much,” Harry said firmly. Both Mycroft and Sherlock were observing her – Sherlock seemed to have caught on to what she was doing by that point. 

“I don’t think you understand. In today’s society, everyone has an identity. You do not. That is unacceptable. What were to happen if you were picked up by the police? Or stopped at an airport? You’d be thrown in prison for being suspicious before you could even open your mouth. Everyone had identification nowadays. Except for you and your son,” Mycroft informed her, staring intently at her.

“I don’t care,” Harry said, jutting her chin out. 

“Fine. But we have to register Theo. How are we going to send him to school without an identity? Schools have changed in the last ten years or so,” Sherlock told her. Harry bit her lip, thinking intently. Not over what he said – but if Mycroft was like his brother, he would be able to tell if she was thinking or not. She made sure not to make eye contact as she mulled stuff over in her head a few minutes. Her identity was going to have to be carefully crafted, she realized.

On top of that, Mycroft said he hadn’t seen her face before.

It made sense, Harry decided. She was always bruised or had a broken nose when she was sent to school before eleven. Any time she went out she was covered in some sort of bandages or long hair to cover the mottled colored skin from a thrashing she’d received. 

Who knew all of that would actually be a blessing to her now?

“Fine. You can register Theo,” Harry said quietly. The secretary woman behind Mycroft moved closer.

“Name?” she asked. 

“Theodore Holmes,” Sherlock supplied. 

“Date of birth?” 

“ April 30, 1998,” Harry said. The woman scribbled it down.

“Parents’ names?” she asked. 

And Harry froze.

Because of course they would need parents’ names on it. If she just put Sherlock’s name, he could take Teddy away from her. And if she put her name down, then Mycroft could register and they’d find her. 

“See, dear, this is the problem,” Mycroft said, staring at her. 

“Harry Watson,” Harry finally said. 

“We established earlier that you are not Harry Watson,” Mycroft said with a sigh.

“I’m John’s cousin. My last name’s Watson as much as his is,” Harry shot back with a hiss.

“And what, exactly, is that supposed to mean?” Mycroft asked, eyes glinting.

“John’s branch of the family was disowned and changed their names. They too, were unregistered. Any records of their existence is under then name Watson. And so will mine,” Harry said with a tone of finality. 

“Harry Watson? No middle name?” the secretary asked.

“Jaime. Harry Jaime Watson,” Harry said.

“Date of birth?” 

“August 1st, 1979,” Harry said, giving herself another year. That could only help her, she decided. 

“She’s a bit young for you,” Mycroft said.

“She was eighteen,” Sherlock pointed out.

“And you were in your late twenties,” Mycroft added. Sherlock waved him off.

“You got both their identities. You can leave now,” Sherlock said.

“I just need one more thing,” he said, pulling a sheet of paper from his briefcase. He slid it over to Sherlock. 

“She just said no to that,” Sherlock pointed out. Harry leaned over, frowning at the word marriage. 

“I’m not ready to marry anyone,” Harry decided. 

“Unfortunately, if you do not agree to the marriage, I will be forced to place custody of the child in Sherlock’s name, and he would be removed within the week for negligence,” Mycroft said with a superior sneer. 

“Oh Mycroft, do your research. Harry and Theo live with me,” Sherlock retorted, leaning back gracefully in his chair. Mycroft gave him one last sneer before standing.

“Christmas is next week, brother. Mummy would be very displeased if you and your…unattached family…did not show up with you,” Mycroft said.

“I had no intentions of going,” Sherlock said with a sniff. 

“Of course you didn’t. Mummy was just complaining that she’s only seen you twice since your miraculous revival,” Mycroft said. 

“Mummy is always complaining about what she likes to refer to as my dismal manners,” Sherlock drawled.

“Mummy will be a force to be reckoned with if you do not present her with your son,” Mycroft said. 

“Oh look, Mycroft. Here comes our food,” Sherlock said. Mycroft gave one final sneer before heading out the door, the woman following him closely.

Sure enough, the man who’d greeted them when they sat down placed food in front of both Sherlock and Harry, before placing a smaller empty plate in front of Teddy. Harry immediately began cutting the pasta and chicken into small pieces and transferring them to Teddy’s plate. Once she’d sufficiently filled his plate, she helped him maneuver the silverware. Teddy wasted no time acclimating himself to the cutlery and was shoveling food into his mouth as fast as Harry would let him. 

“It’s okay. You can eat slower,” Harry told him in a soothing voice. Teddy gave her a look of doubt but appeared to try slowing down a bit.

“You ought to eat as well,” Sherlock pointed out.

“So should you,” Harry shot back. Sherlock’s eyebrow went up slowly as he regarded her carefully. As he did, he picked up a fork and began eating. Harry matched his movements. 

“Was that good?” Harry asked, making sure not to move her lips as she did. 

“Adequate,” Sherlock agreed. Harry nodded. 

By the time Teddy had finished eating, he was falling asleep into his plate. Before Harry could move to lift him into her arms, Sherlock had him. 

“Are you finished as well?” Sherlock asked. Harry nodded, trying to ignore the part of her that said she couldn’t waste the food and had to finish eating it. Sherlock pulled her to her feet and guided her out of the restaurant with a nod to the man who’d served them.

“Don’t you need to pay?” Harry asked him.

“Angelo refuses to allow me to pay. He will to you too, if you come in with Theo,” Sherlock said. The two of them walked a ways in silence, Sherlock’s hand still on the small of her back.

“Why did you leave?” Sherlock asked her after a few minutes.

“I thought you already knew that,” Harry said, swallowing.

“I deduced a reason, but I would like to hear it from you,” Sherlock said.

“I didn’t feel safe.”

Her words were met by silence. A glance out of the corner of her eyes said that Sherlock was thinking it all over. 

“And what would it take to make you feel safe?” 

It was Harry’s turn to think. Feeling safe. She’d have to think back to the last time she’d felt safe.

But when was that? 

When had she ever truly felt safe? Hogwarts did nothing but try to kill her. Her relatives did the same. When she was last at Grimmault Place, she was hiding in hopes no one would find her. 

Had she ever felt safe?

“Security,” Harry finally managed to say. 

“Identity security, child security, food security?” Sherlock prattled on.   
“Yes.”

Sherlock nodded thoughtfully at her words.

“I’ll take care of that,” Sherlock promised. 

At Baker Street, he held the door and led her up the stairs. Mary and John were still there, sitting at the table. John looked ecstatic to see them returning. He was over to them in an instant, throwing his arms around Harry. Harry’s automatic reaction to stiffen took a lot of fighting to override. 

“How did dinner go?” Mary asked them. 

“Good. Say hello to Harry Watson, your cousin, and Theo Holmes,” Sherlock said.

“So Mycroft took care of everything?” John asked.

“He did try to push the marriage certificate, but we ignored it,” Sherlock said, waving it off. 

“And he just gave in?” Mary asked, staring critically at him.

“He did say we had bettered show up for Christmas dinner, but I rarely go to Christmas dinners,” Sherlock said. 

“But Theo’s never been to a Christmas dinner,” Mary said.

“Why do you say that?” John asked, only for Mary to give him a frown. 

“Oh. Right,” John corrected.

“It’s okay. He doesn’t need to go to a Christmas dinner,” Harry said, her voice quiet. 

“Everyone has to go to Christmas dinners every once in a while. They’re a unique occurrence,” John told her with a smile. 

Harry only shrugged. 

“Harry….have you ever been to a Christmas dinner?” Mary asked her softly.

“They aren’t that important,” Harry murmured. 

“You’ve never been to a Christmas dinner?” John asked in disbelief. Harry could only shake her head. 

“We had dinners at the school, but it was usually just a few kids who didn’t have families to go home to and the teachers,” Harry explained.

“And your relatives wouldn’t let you come home?” John asked.

“My relatives never let me eat in the three days surrounding Christmas when I was home,” Harry said bitterly, pulling Theo gently from Sherlock’s arms. She made her way back to the room she’d woken up in – Sherlock’s room – without another word. 

“You should go this year,” Mary said gently to Sherlock. 

“Because she’s never gone?” Sherlock asked. Mary nodded.

“I doubt she has good memories associated with Christmas. Make a few with her,” Mary ordered him. Sherlock frowned but nodded.

“I guess we’re all going to Christmas dinner at Mummy’s.”


	8. Chapter 7: Christmas

Harry wasn’t sure what she was expecting on Christmas Eve, but it wasn’t a party. She woke up to Mary and John bustling around the flat, putting things in different places and lecturing Sherlock on his ability to keep the flat child-friendly.

Wrapping Sherlock’s robe a bit tighter around her, Harry examined the Christmas tree Mary and John were wrestling with. 

“What’s going on?” Harry asked, watching them.

“We’re decorating. For the Christmas party,” John said, matter-of-fact.

“Christmas party?” Harry asked.

“Yeah. A Christmas party. You’ll love it,” John promised.

“I’ve never been to a Christmas party,” Harry said, trying to keep herself from tightening her grip on the robe even more.

“There appears to be a lot of things you’ve never done,” Sherlock said with a sigh before whisking her back into the bedroom. 

“Why are we having a Christmas party?” Harry asked him as soon as the door was closed.

“John said it would be a good idea. Since I’m back now, I haven’t really seen many of my old…acquaintances….and he recommended a party,” Sherlock said, his lip curling in slight disgust. 

“I’m not good at parties,” Harry admitted.

“Neither am I. I tend to make the guests run for the door,” Sherlock said, his disgust momentarily brightening to enthusiasm.

“In fact, I bet I could scare off more than you can in the first hour,” Sherlock said. 

“I’m not good at doing things on purpose,” Harry admitted.

“Is there anyone you can think of that you’d like to invite?” John asked her the moment the two of them left the bedroom, a sleepy Theo in their arms. 

“No one I’m in contact with,” Harry admitted sheepishly. Mary and John exchanged looks. 

“What if we could get you in contact with some of them?” Mary asked carefully. 

“We already talked about this. The number one priority is Harry’s safety,” Sherlock said, crossing his own arms. 

“What…what do you mean?” Harry asked carefully, moving to grip Sherlock’s arm. 

“I have an owl. It was my sister’s. I could send it to your friends, telling them to come to a party tonight. We don’t even have to mention you,” Mary suggested lightly. 

“You could…you could send it?” Harry asked, her voice tiny.

“Yeah. Probably no more than two for them to make it tonight, but we could,” Mary offered. Harry mulled over it for a moment, thinking carefully.

“Just one. Send it to George Weasley. Nothing in it but a time, a place, and the words “I Solemnly Swear I Am Up To No Good,” Harry decided.

“Are you sure that’s enough to make someone show up?” Mary asked dubiously.

“I know it is. He gets that, he’ll know it could only be one of two people,” Harry said.

“And he won’t try to turn you in? Or take you away?” Sherlock asked her.

“He won’t,” Harry agreed. 

“Okay. I’ll go send that while you finish setting up. Sherlock, did you pick up any outfits for them suitable for Christmas?” Mary asked. Sherlock sighed and nodded.

“I assumed you’d insist on such an event,” Sherlock said, pulling Harry from the room once more.

“What do you mean? How much did you buy us?” Harry asked him in disbelief. 

“I bought you everything you would need once we found you,” Sherlock said.

“Except a robe,” Harry added, but she was biting her lip at the thought.

“I’d already decided I wanted the two of you here. Theo’s a mystery, and so are you. I love mysteries,” Sherlock pointed out. Harry nodded carefully, as if she were mulling his words over carefully.

“So where is this Christmas outfit?” Harry finally asked. Sherlock gave her a blinding smile.

 

***

The first guest arrived at five. Harry had taken to helping John with decoration to keep her hands from shaking in anticipation of the night. She was in the middle of hanging a few ornaments when the door opened.

“I brought up some cookies the wife made…blimey, what’re you doing back?” 

The ornament in Harry’s hand crashed to the ground at the sudden intrusion. John was at her side instantly with a broom and dust pan, scooping the glass pieces away before Theo could run in the room as he had done off and on since Mary had started baking in the kitchen. 

“Sherlock brought her back last week. Nice to see you again, Greg,” John said graciously, taking the cookies from the DI in the hand that wasn’t holding the broom and dust pan full of glass shards. 

The DI continued staring at her, eyes dragging down to Theo as he ran in the room. Sherlock followed him, looking a bit irritated at his disheveled appearance. 

“Mommy!” Theo shouted, throwing his arms up at her. Harry scooped the child up automatically.

“What’d you do now?” Harry asked the boy. 

“He decided to mess with my hair while I was rearranging the food platter Mary could not arrange correctly,” Sherlock said huffily, running a hand back through his hair. 

“Now Sherlock, we both know he was only trying to make your hair look better,” Mary teased as she entered the room.

“Greg! So nice you could make it,” she said with a warm smile. 

“Greg, I hope you remember Harry Watson, my cousin,” John said.

“Your cousin?” Greg asked in disbelief.

“Yes. Imagine our surprise when we learned that Sherlock’s elusive girlfriend and my cousin were one and the same,” John said, his lie coming out quite elegantly. Even Sherlock seemed rather proud of his words. 

“And that makes the kid…” Lestrade tapered off, staring at the child in Harry’s arms. 

“My son. Yes,” Sherlock drawled.

“Blimey. I need a drink,” Lestrade said, handing the cookies off to Mary. 

“Wine’s on the table,” Mary told him as he headed towards the kitchen.

“Why does that thought make him need alcohol?” Sherlock asked.

“You, a mini-you, and my cousin all in one family. That’s what makes him want to drink. It sounds like a nightmare,” John said, winking at Harry.

“Please. I’m not that atrocious,” Sherlock scoffed. 

“No dear; you’re worse,” Mary corrected him.

Harry decided to stay away from the breakables from that point on. Molly showed up, acting amicable towards Harry and enamored with little Theo after awhile, despite her knowing what he was. 

A few other people showed up as well, but Harry tried retreating to the corner of the room. John would take her and introduce her to a few people as his cousin, Sherlock’s girlfriend, but Harry didn’t remember any of their names. 

She didn’t like this event. She didn’t like it at all. It was weird uncomfortable – an overall pain. 

Sherlock seemed to agree with her, if his look of irritation every time a woman named Sally spoke was anything to go by. He would mutter every so often that it could only be worse if Anderson had shown up.

Right at the time the party was officially to start, there was a knock on the door. Most everyone else just walked right in. John made his way to the door and opened it. 

Harry felt her heart ache. That was the best way to describe the intense emotions she had upon seeing George Weasley standing in the doorway, anxious and apprehensive all at once. When his eyes landed on Harry, he flew past John and swept Harry up into a bone crushing hug, one that would have put Molly Weasley to shame. He didn’t say anything, just breathed deeply as he held her tightly. 

Harry managed to catch sight of Sherlock over George’s shoulders (he was holding her well off the ground by that point). He looked mutinous, and Harry rolled her eyes at him. Theo was in his arms as well, looking curiously at Harry and the red-haired man he couldn’t remember. 

When George finally pulled back, he had tears in his eyes. He opened his mouth, then closed it once more. 

“Mischief Managed, oh holy one?” Harry managed to say, her voice cracking. 

“Don’t you ever do that to us again,” George threatened. 

And Harry’s heart cracked a bit more.

Us. He was referring to himself a Fred.  
“George, there’s some people I want you to meet,” Harry said. She gestured to Sherlock, who sulked his way over to them.

“This is my boyfriend, Sherlock Holmes. Theo’s father,” Harry said, staring at George as she spoke. George glanced at Teddy for one moment before nodding, eyes narrowing on Sherlock. 

“So you’re the one who’s kept her from visiting,” George said.

“No George. He hasn’t,” Harry said patiently. 

“Sherlock, this is my friend George. We used to be triplets, back in school. Owned a joke shop together, didn’t we?” Harry asked.

“Owned? We still do. Your name is on the deed as financial partner,” George pointed out. Harry could only shake her head at the man. 

Sherlock opened his mouth, deduction on his tongue. Usually, Harry let them go.

“No. Please don’t,” Harry interrupted before he could even start. Sherlock closed his mouth, staring at her. 

“Yes, I said triplet. Yes, he said us. Three became two after a violent accident,” Harry said simply. George winced at her words. Sherlock gracefully kept his mouth shut.

John took that as his cue to come over.

“This is my cousin, John Watson. He has a sister named Harry as well. The two of us could be twins,” Harry said with a laugh, careful not to put too much emphasis on the words. George nodded, slinging an arm around her shoulders. 

“And this is his fiancée, Mary,” Harry finished. George nodded to both of them.

“This is my good friend George. He was one of my best friends in school,” Harry said.

George winced.

“You didn’t tell them you were coming here, did you?” Harry asked him.

“No. Ron threw a fit when I said I had places to be though,” George admitted. 

“Ron’s a prat,” Harry complained.

“Glad you finally see it,” George retorted with a laugh.

“Are they still…” Harry drifted.

“Out for your blood? Bigoted fools? Yes,” George said with a wince. 

“I see,” Harry said with a frown. 

The night went by without a hitch, save one incident where Sherlock let loose his deductions. George stayed at their sides the whole night, at one point even going as far as to wrap an arm around both Harry and Sherlock. 

Harry wasn’t sure what shocked Sherlock more, the fact that the one-eared red-head man was touching him or the offer from said red-head for a threesome if they were ever interested.

That had elicited quite a few chokes from anyone within hearing distance.

Harry could only laugh at the familiar gleam in George’s eye. 

When it came time to go, George asked if he could spend the night.

“I’ll only take up a third of the bed, I promise!” George whined to Sherlock, who instantly tried shoving him out the door. 

“I’ll owl you soon, okay? Just…don’t tell anyone else,” Harry said. 

“I solemnly swear,” George said, but his tone had seriousness laced throughout the words. 

When he’d finally made his way out the door, both John and Sherlock sank onto the couch.

“I thought he’d never leave,” Sherlock moaned.

“You’re telling me. Please, for Christ’s sake, tell me the rest of your old friends aren’t like that,” John begged of her. Harry could only grin.

“I don’t really have many other old friends,” she told them. Both relaxed at her words.

“However, he used to be a twin. Imagine that, times two, with me in the mix more often than not,” Harry told them, feeling the grin blossom up over her face.

Both men groaned in horror at the thought. 

Mary managed to get the lot of them off their feet to clean up the mess left over from the party. If Sherlock or John had had their way, the flat would have stayed trashed well past the new year. Theo seemed to enjoy throwing things in the bin Mary carried around.

In fact, he got so eager at his new game that he started throwing everything in, to Mary’s glee and Sherlock’s horror. Sherlock snatched the skull Theo had somehow managed to grab and placed it safely on the mantel once more. 

Harry’s sides hurt from so much laughter. 

Finally, finally Mary and John left for the night. Sherlock threw himself down in his chair, eyes closed as he slumped back. Harry had a now-spent Theo in her arms, slouching just as Sherlock was. She glanced at the man who’d never entered his own room, save to grab clothes every now and then.

She hadn’t seen him sleep. She supposed he had to, and the sight of him slouching in the chair made her wince. He shouldn’t have to sleep in a chair when he had a bed. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of him sleeping before. Her Gryffindor side was always making her overlook the simple things, she realized ruefully.

“You know, the bed is big enough for three,” Harry said carefully. One of Sherlock’s eyes opened. 

“Of course it is,” Sherlock said before both eyes opened.

“If you are insinuating that you would like to call the red-haired cretin back, I will protest.”

Harry bit back a laugh at her words.

“Actually, I was implying that Theo and I wouldn’t mind sharing the bed with you, but if you’d rather not…” Harry drifted off. Sherlock sighed and stood, as if he were doing them a favor by sleeping in the bed as well. 

The three of them slipped nightclothes on and climbed into the bed, Theo snoring softly before Harry could even turn off the light. 

The movement of Sherlock as he climbed into the bed unnerved her slightly. She fought to keep herself from stiffening – only barely succeeding. 

“If it makes you so uncomfortable, I can sleep in my chair. I’ve been managing just fine,” Sherlock said quietly. 

“No. It’s fine. I’ll just take some getting used to,” Harry said. She allowed the silence to settle over them for a moment before a wide grin split her face.

“You know, I’m actually pretty sure there’s room for four in this bed.”

Sherlock’s only answer was a grunt.

***

Harry woke before anyone else. Theo was curled up in her arms and Sherlock was actually within arm’s reach of the two of them. For a moment, Harry just laid there, her lips twisting again into that foreign smile. 

Christmas. Christmas day. It was Christmas day.

But how did you celebrate Christmas day? How was she to celebrate it? 

At the school, it meant they got to be left alone before a meal. The meals were never her favorite – not only was the food so rich it made her sick, but the other teachers were always overbearing with their fake smiles and cheer. 

Before school, the Dursleys did Christmas the same every year. Harry woke up and cooked breakfast while the others slept and then was roughly locked in her cupboard until it was time to come out and cook supper for them. 

Harry slipped out of the bed, tucking Theo carefully back into the sheets next to Sherlock before pressing a kiss on the child’s forehead. Dressing robe wrapped firmly around herself, she padded into the kitchen to take inventory of what they had. 

The last few years, there hadn’t been a Christmas. At least, there hadn’t been one that Harry and Theo had celebrated. Harry had just made sure that no matter what, they were in a motel during Christmas. It was the smallest sort of Christmas gesture, but there was little else she could do. 

A pang hit her just as she was pulling out the ingredients for breakfast. 

There had been one year she’d almost had a Christmas. One year when they had decorated a house and sang and had dinner.

The year with Sirius. 

Even that year, there was darkness hanging over them. Arthur Weasley had been in the hospital. None of the Weasleys had liked that year – Ron had spent the entire time complaining. 

But to Harry, that was perhaps the best Christmas she’d ever had.

Oh Sirius.

Sirius would have spoilt Teddy rotten, Harry realized sadly. She could see them, the Maurauders, and their Christmases now. Remus trying to keep everyone calm and following the rules, while Sirius bound through the place as a Grim, a bouncing Teddy on his back. Tonks would have had a field day with that as well. She probably would have followed Remus around as he lectured everyone, morphing into Remus to mock his rules jokingly. 

And her parents. 

Harry dared not think of how her parents would have fit into that equation. It hurt too much to think of them anymore, so to save herself from the heartache she simply did not think of them at all if she could help it. Theo had grown up hearing stories of Uncle Padfoot, Moony, and Tonks, but never of James and Lily. 

Harry couldn’t bear the pain to mention them. 

A flash of pain brought her attention to what she was doing.

Cooking.

And she’s burnt herself. 

Harry pushed her thoughts away, ignoring the burn as she payed closer attention to the food she was preparing.

“You’re burnt.”

The voice came from right behind her. Harry jumped slightly, but before she could even turn around, Sherlock’s arms had wrapped around her. One of his hands was holding her injured hand steady as the other gently prodded it.

“It’s nothing. Just a grease splatter,” Harry said.

“I can tell. It blends in nicely with the other burn scars in the area. Let’s bandage it up,” Sherlock said, but Harry shook her head.

“It’ll be fine. I’ve had worse,” Harry said. 

“I’m sure you have,” Sherlock said drily.

“Let me finish cooking breakfast first,” Harry said softly, hoping the compromise would make him more agreeable. 

“Not only does it blend well, it looks as if a multitude scars come from similar incidents. Were you the sole cooker in your household?” Sherlock asked her, his words low right next to her ear. 

“I was. I’m used to it. If I don’t finish the food now, it’ll be ruined,” Harry explained.

“And if we don’t bandage your hand soon, it’ll scar,” Sherlock said. 

Only then he remained silent.

Harry quickly finished making breakfast with Sherlock still at her back. 

“So the majority of your scars come from no one bothering to help you bandage them, aren’t they?” Sherlock asked quietly.

“I’m not important enough to waste good bandages on,” Harry quoted from memory.

“Well, I don’t mind this whole ‘wasting’ bandages. Let’s fix your hand before we eat,” Sherlock decided, pulling her from the kitchen and into the bathroom. He meticulously wrapped her hand up, as if studying it as he did. 

“We should wake up Teddy so he can eat. John called and said him and Mary’d be here in an hour with presents,” Sherlock said, looking almost puzzled at the words.

“Presents?” Harry repeated. 

Oh. Presents. Yeah. 

She hadn’t gotten presents in a few years. And at school, it was always something small from Hermione and Ron.

Except the one year she’d received the Firebolt from Sirius. 

Teddy had never really received presents, especially not for Christmas.

“I haven’t gotten anyone presents,” Harry admitted as she realized what was expected of people for Christmas. 

“John said you probably wouldn’t have. Mary recommended I get nothing as well so you would not feel guilty. Only Mary and John bought presents this year, for Teddy for the most part,” Sherlock explained.

“What?” Harry asked in disbelief. 

“It was Mary and John’s idea,” Sherlock said, waving it all off. Harry could only stare at him in shock.

He led her back to the kitchen, where she found herself dishing out plates as Sherlock disappeared from the room, coming back a few minutes later with a sleepy Teddy on his hip. He sat Teddy down in one of the chairs as Teddy rubbed his eyes, a yawn emerging from his lips.

“Mommy?” Teddy asked, staring dubiously at the table.

“It’s Christmas, Teddy. It’s a special day,” Harry said softly. Teddy still stared at the table with suspicions.

“It’s sort of like your birthday,” Sherlock supplied, watching Teddy carefully for a reaction.

“He wouldn’t understand that either,” Harry said quietly in return.

“Well then, you’re just going to be surprised, aren’t you?” Sherlock said, forcing a wide grin onto his face. Teddy seemed to be unsure as to how he was supposed to feel and react. 

Mary had warned him that the boy might. She’d suggested almost exaggerated emotions with him to help him settle down with how he should feel.

Personally, Sherlock had thought she sounded completely insane, but John had nodded along. Sherlock supposed that John knew more than he did about human interactions, and if John thought it was a good idea, then it more than likely was a good idea.

The three of them finished breakfast in silence, as well as cleaned up before Mary and John arrived. 

And when Mary and John arrived, they arrived loudly.

John burst in the doors with a cry of “Merry Christmas” escaping him before he could fully make his way in the door. Mary followed, her arms fully of gifts. John all but dropped the gifts he had on the floor in front of Teddy, who stared suspiciously at the brightly wrapped presents.

“Merry Christmas,” Harry replied quietly in response. Teddy stared up at Harry, nose scrunched up at her.

It took a lot of working and prodding, but Teddy finally began opening the presents. It took even more prodding before Teddy realized that the presents were his and his to keep. Only then did Teddy start getting excited. Harry herself seemed to cheer up as Teddy did, laughing as freely as her son at some of the gifts Mary and John had purchased for him. When he had finished tearing through the colorful paper, both Teddy and Harry had thanked Mary and John tremendously, Harry with slightly damp eyes and Teddy with bouncing enthusiasm as his arms tried holding all the stuffed animals he’d received while still hugging them.

Only then did John glance at his watch, clear his throat and glance more purposefully at his watch.

“We ought to be getting to the Holmeses house. Mycroft made sure to give me the exact times as to when to leave in order to arrive as to his schedule,” John said.

“His schedule and mine rarely align. We need to clean up before we can leave,” Sherlock dismissed. Harry leapt to her feet at his words. She hurried into the kitchen, more than likely in search of a rubbish bin to collect the trash with.

“Sherlock, please, be kind today. Make today special for them,” John pleaded. Sherlock let out a long-suffering sigh but did not disagree with John. 

When Harry made it back in the room, Sherlock took it from her and gently sat it down.

“We’ll clean up when we get home,” Sherlock said. Harry opened her mouth, only to close it once more.

The look she threw at the room was almost painful. 

Still, she allowed Sherlock to drag her to the room and pick out an outfit for her to wear. While she was getting herself and Teddy dressed, John and Mary were picking up the living room.

“Do you know anything about her time with her relatives?” Mary asked John, keeping her voice low.

“Only that they abused her to some degree. She tries not talking about them. Why?” John asked.

“Because she looked pained at the thought of leaving things lying around. The moment we were done, she was ready to clean up. Those kind of behaviors are trained into a person,” Mary explained.

“I agree.” Both Mary and John spun around to see Sherlock standing in the doorway.

“In my opinion, it makes her time on the streets that much more admirable. She cannot stand dirt because the thought was beat out of her, and yet she was forced to live in such conditions herself. It must have been painful,” Sherlock mused.

“Actually, it was welcoming,” Harry said drily as she entered the room, a squirming Teddy in her arms. She sat him down quickly and he wasted no time in running for the trash bag, hell-bent on creating a mess once more. Mary moved the bag away from him. 

“Welcoming?” Sherlock asked, eyebrows shooting up. Harry nodded.

“Yes. Welcoming. I hate neat. It’s just an automatic reaction, any time someone mentions needing something cleaned. That was usually my hint that I’d bettered do it if I wanted food any time in the next week,” Harry explained. John was gaping at her.

“We ought to get going before Mycroft sends a car for us,” Sherlock pointed out.

“Too late. One’s already here,” Mary said as she returned from the window. Sherlock let out a long sigh before wrapping his bathrobe around him.

“Sherlock!” John hissed at him.

“I’m dressed. That doesn’t mean I can’t give Mycroft a heart attack,” Sherlock said with a feral grin.

And he almost did give Mycroft a heart attack. Mycroft was seconds from ordering him back up to the room when Harry let out a shiver and Sherlock quickly wrapped the robe around her.

Mycroft’s irritation turned into intrigue. 

He had been suspicious about this sudden addition to his brother’s life. He doubted love was involved- his brother didn’t know love. This was beginning to look as though his emotionless brother was in fact infatuated with this mystery girl. 

Mycroft was not quite sure he liked this new development. Only time could possibly tell. 

They all crawled into the car, Mycroft watching now with more critical eyes. 

“I told you I’d get them to your parents’ house. Why’d you send a car?” John protested.

“Because, Mr. Watson, I daresay I know my brother better than you do, and he never would have made it that far without me escorting them there personally,” Mycroft stated. Sherlock sniffed at him before taking his spawn from Harry. Harry just shivered once more, watching her son from the corner of her eyes as she glanced out the window at the passing city. 

“How was your Christmas morning?” Mycroft asked Harry, watching her for her reactions. She shrugged, her actions calculated. Then, with a covered look, she levelled her shoulders and stared back at him.

“It was adequate.” 

Mycroft started at her words, staring at the slip of a girl whose whole posture screamed intimidating. He couldn’t stop the smirk that spread across his lips. 

“Great. He’s smiling,” Sherlock grumbled. 

The rest of the drive passed with meaningless chatter instigated by John as they left London behind and entered the countryside. Harry seemed to be getting antsy the farther they drove.

They came up to the Holmes Mansion, and Harry’s tension did not seem to decrease. She stared at the mansion in disbelief, shaking her head at the sight of it. 

“Ready?” Sherlock asked Harry, who squared her shoulders once more. 

“Of course,” she said, shrugging Sherlock’s dressing gown off. Sherlock went to grab it, but Harry held him back before stepping out of the car. John and Mary followed her immediately, leaving Sherlock in the car with his spawn and Mycroft. 

“I have a feeling this will be an interesting evening,” Mycroft said lightly. Sherlock levelled him with a glare. 

“Only if you upset Mummy.” Mycroft’s incredulous expression was what Sherlock left him with, climbing out of the car.

“Me? Upset Mummy?” Mycroft asked in disbelief.

“Yes. After all, I just gave her a grandchild,” Sherlock said with a superior sniff as he made his way out of the car. Mycroft followed stiffly after him.

Sure enough, at the doorway Mrs. Holmes was standing there, eagerly watching Harry, Sherlock and Theo as they made their way up to the doorstep.

“Hello! You must be Harry Watson. I am so happy to finally meet you!” Mrs. Holmes said with a wide smile as she pulled Harry into a hug. Harry stood stiffly in her arms, shooting John and Sherlock a desperate look.

“Yes Mummy,” Sherlock said with a sigh. Mrs. Holmes’s attention shifted from Harry to Sherlock and, consequently, Theo. She swooped in, pulling Theo into her arms. Theo squawked indignantly, looking desperate to get away from the strange woman who’d just grabbed him. 

“Mycroft told me you weren’t married,” she observed. 

“No, Mummy,” Sherlock said simply. Mrs. Holmes clucked her tongue and then glanced at Harry once more.

“Will Theodore be receiving a younger sibling soon?” she asked. 

“I should hope not,” Mycroft said in alarm, and Sherlock shook his head.

“Not to my knowledge,” Sherlock said, only his voice sounded strangled.

“Sherlock and I have decided to focus on raising Theodore in a suitable manner before procreating once more,” Harry said diplomatically. John stared at her in disbelief as Mrs. Holmes nodded.

“A formidable plan. Come in, come in!” she said, holding the door open wide. 

“Nice save,” Mary congratulated.

“I thought so too,” Harry said, breathing out her own sigh of relief. 

“That gives us one, maybe two years to come up with another answer,” Sherlock added in, his voice a murmur as his mother shuffled them all into a living room, where a Christmas tree was piled with presents. Harry stared.

And stared.

It looked almost as bad as Dudley’s Christmas piles. 

Sherlock steered her and Teddy into the kitchen, where Mrs. Holmes was arguing with Mycroft.

“All I’m saying is that you could benefit from having a woman around as well. You’re not getting any younger,” Mrs. Holmes was saying. John was shaking in laughter with his back turned, and Mary could only snicker at Mycroft’s growing irritation.

“Sherlock has a woman. Why don’t you focus on getting more grandchildren out of him?” Mycroft complained, trying to throw them under the bus.

“Didn’t you hear? They’re focusing on dear little Theodore first. So it’s your turn,” Mrs. Holmes announced. Mycroft released another sigh. Only for his expression to change to one of scheming.

“But Mummy, why don’t you instead try convincing Sherlock and Harri to marry? After all, they aren’t married yet,” Mycroft suggested. 

“Dear, why don’t we leave the children alone for a bit? I’m sure Theodore would love to open presents.” This new voice came from behind them.

“Father,” Mycroft said with a slight nod. Sherlock echoed his actions. 

“Come. It’s Christmas. First Christmas with the family in three years. I would like to celebrate it.”


	9. Chapter 8

December ended and January came. Harry and Theo settled nicely into Sherlock’s life, growing more and more accustomed to Sherlock’s random jaunts with John. Mary spent more and more time at the flat with Harry when the boys were out, and Theo had taken to running around like he owned the place.

Harry should have realized, when she was around, trouble didn’t stay away for long. 

As February approached, Harry’s energy levels started increasing. Staying inside all the time began to drive her insane. So her and Mary began taking Theo out during the days. 

Mary suggested Theo attend a preschool. Harry pretended she didn’t hear. They were walking through a park when it happened. 

Harry slammed into someone and was shoved to the ground. Mary had been holding Theo’s hand at that point, thankfully. 

“I’m sorry, I….Potter?” 

The voice made Harry leap to her feet.

Standing there in front of her, was Dudley Dursley. 

And right behind him were his parents. 

“Girl! What are you doing here?” Uncle Vernon barked, his face already red. 

“There seems to be a mistake, sir. This is my fiancee’s sister, Harry Watson. Who are you?” Mary asked, her voice cool and detached. 

“I’d know the girl anywhere. I thought they were trying to kill you. Still can’t die when you’re supposed to, can you?” Uncle Vernon taunted. Aunt Petunia stood there, staring at her…and at Theo. 

Dudley looked uncomfortable.

“Dad, can we go? We’re going to be late,” Dudley tried, but Uncle Vernon ignored him. 

“Are you following us? Trying to get more charity out of us?” Uncle Vernon barked. Harry felt her shoulders caving in on herself at his words. 

“I must ask you to leave us alone before we call the police on you for harassment,” Mary informed him.

“Harassment? I’m not harassing anyone!” Uncle Vernon boomed angrily, turning on Mary.

Only for his eye to settle on Theo.

“You had a brat. I hope you don’t plan on shipping him off to us when you die like your parents. We aren’t going to take care of any other bastards,” Uncle Vernon spat at her. 

“Excuse me. What seems to be the problem?”

The voice caught all of their attention.

And Harry let out a sigh of relief. 

Greg Lestrade was standing there, arms crossed. 

Right behind him, both looking rather murderous, stood John and Sherlock. 

Greg whipped out his badge in no time, holding it up.

“Greg Lestrade, Detective Inspector, Scotland Yard. Now, give me a reason I shouldn’t arrest you for harassment,” Greg said, looking highly unamused.

“Harassment?! I took the girl in when she was a needy child and raised her. I can speak to her any way I want,” Uncle Vernon spat.

“Nonetheless, you are mistaken. This is my dear cousin you are harassing. We’ve never seen you before in our lives, and if you know what’s best, you’ll leave us the hell alone,” John said, eyes flashing. 

“Vernon dear, I don’t think that’s the girl,” Aunt Petunia said. 

All eyes focused on her. 

“Pet, of course it is!” Uncle Vernon protested.

“The girl has green eyes, remember? Not hazel. And that child’s too old. She would have been pregnant while living with us. She would have miscarried,” Aunt Petunia said. 

“Nonsense. She has the same scars!” Uncle Vernon pointed out, grabbing her hand.

“My fiancée had an accident involving bacon grease last year,” Sherlock said smoothly, glaring intently at Uncle Vernon. 

“Dad, she doesn’t have the scar. Excuse me,” Dudley said, moving closer. He gave Harri a reassuring look before pulling her hair up – on the wrong side. 

“See? No scar. I’m so sorry,” Dudley apologized, looking thoroughly chagrined.

“But it has to be her!” Uncle Vernon sputtered.

“Vernon darling, why don’t you go get the car? We’ll smooth things over,” Aunt Petunia said. Uncle Vernon finally gave up, muttering angrily as he walked away. 

“They’re still looking for you,” Aunt Petunia said, her voice low.

“I know,” Harri responded, keeping her eyes low. 

“I thought you were dead, you know, Lil’ H,” Dudley said, his words causing Harri to look up. 

“I survive, Big D. It’s what I do,” she said with a self-deprecating smile. 

“Well, keep on doing it. I can’t raise a second kid,” he informed her before giving Theo a small smile. 

“Dudley,” Harri called out as they started walking away. They turned, waiting for her to continue.

“They didn’t….they didn’t come after you, did they?” she asked, worrying her lip in between her teeth.

“They came by offering their money for your location. We didn’t know, so Dad couldn’t take them up on it,” Dudley answered with a grimace. He then stopped and gave her a look. 

“I’m married. I just got married last month. I think…I think we’re having a baby soon. If…if something happens, I would watch him, you know. I’d treat him better,” Dudley promised.

“I’d do the same,” Harri found herself saying. Aunt Petunia stared at her before shaking her head. 

“If you’d had those eyes, it’d’ve been easier for me,” she murmured.

“Keep out of sight,” Aunt Petunia finally said before leaving.

“Dear Lord. Are those the abusive relatives?” Greg asked in disbelief. 

“Dudley’s matured. Aunt Petunia…regrets. But Uncle Vernon’ll never change,” Harri said, her tone bittersweet. 

“We need to do something to change up your looks. They recognized you much too easily,” Sherlock murmured as he wrapped her into his arms. Harri’s face was buried in his chest. 

Later that day, Mary took Harri to the hair salon. When they were finished, Harri wasn’t even sure she recognized herself. The short hair she’d given herself was now fashioned into a pixie cut with blond streaks dyed in.

Harri didn’t like the blonde, but Mary pointed out that it looked so different from her original self that few if anyone would connect her new self to her old self. 

Harri couldn’t argue with that logic. 

When they got back to the flat, Sherlock stared at her.

“What happened to the hair?” he finally asked.

“We made it look different,” Mary said, shooting John a look. John started in his seat.

“I like it. It looks nice,” John said quickly.

“It’s different,” was all Sherlock would say. 

A few weeks later, they ran out of groceries. Sherlock had claimed he would get them, but Harri didn’t believe him – he was too busy with a new case John had brought up to him.

And the normal grocery store was closed for remodeling. 

With Teddy alongside her, Harri took a cab across London to a grocery store similar to their usual one. 

She hadn’t realized how close she was to Diagon Alley until someone grabbed her. 

Harri quickly shoved Teddy away from her. 

“Get home!” she shouted at him and Teddy instinctively apparated away. 

Cuffs were pressed against Harri’s wrists, and she felt her magic being shoved tightly inside of herself. 

It was a painful feeling and she nearly passed out from the pain of it. But she was Harri Potter. She was used to pain. It may have been awhile since she truly suffered, but she was used to being in pain. So she didn’t cry out. 

“Harri Potter, you are under arrest,” Ron’s voice said vindictively in her ear as she was apparated away. 

 

***

Sherlock was in the middle of a long-winded rant at Sally when he saw Theo appear out of nowhere just out of their line of vision.

Appear out of nowhere, alone, and terrified. Sherlock shoved past Sally, stopping his current tirade to scoop the shaking child up. 

“What’s wrong? Where’s your mother?” Sherlock asked the child. John hurried over to his side, eyes wide. 

“A mean person grabbed her,” Teddy mumbled as he started crying into Sherlock’s shirt. 

“Christ. I’m calling Lestrade. Where were you?” John tried asking Teddy, but he only cried harder. 

“What about me?” Lestrade called out. He’d only stepped out of the room so he could claim he hadn’t heard Sherlock verbally abuse Sally. 

“Harri’s been kidnapped. Theo got away and made it here as fast as he could,” John lied swiftly. 

“I didn’t think Harri went out alone,” Lestrade commented. 

“She usually doesn’t. She’d started feeling safer, though. Which would lead her to believing she could make the trip without anything wrong happening,” Sherlock commented, an odd pang settling in his gut. He whipped out his phone and called Mycroft.

“Is this important, brother mine? I’m in a meeting with the Queen,” Mycroft drawled. 

“Harri’s been kidnapped. Theo managed to make it back to me. I need footage. I need information,” Sherlock demanded. 

“How serious is it? Is she in real danger?” Mycroft asked, his voice lower. 

“I would say she’s in a great deal of danger,” Sherlock answered swiftly.

There was silence on the other end. 

“Sherlock. I need information. I need to know who exactly she is. If she’s been taken, I need to know what I’m working with. What’s her real name?” Mycroft asked. Sherlock looked up, meeting John’s eyes. 

“Harri Potter. Her real name is Harri Potter. And whoever took her is probably going to either kill her or imprison her permanently,” Sherlock said. 

Mycroft was quiet on his end. 

“I’ll do my best, Sherlock. But there’s little I can do if it involves Harri Potter,” Mycroft said grimly. 

“Do whatever it takes,” Sherlock hissed angrily before hanging up the phone.

“Hold on. You said Harri Potter. Are you meaning to tell me that Harri Watson is actually Harri Potter? The Harri Potter?” Lestrade asked in disbelief. 

“How the hell do you know about her?” John demanded. 

“I was a Muggle-born. I left their word due to all the prejudices. But even I heard about Harri Potter. And she’s been kidnapped?” Lestrade asked.

“Yes,” Sherlock said with a brief nod. 

“Christ,” Lestrade cursed.

***

It was cold and damp. 

They’d thrown her in a cell, cuffs still on. The floor was slimy with the damp, and the air smelt as if someone had died in the cell.

They probably had, Harri realized as she stared at an unidentified lump in the corner of the cell. 

A Dementor floated by, hesitating by Harri’s cell. Harri quickly moved backwards, closing her eyes. 

The Dementor came closer. 

The screams echoed in her head. Her mother. Her father. Sirius. Fred Weasley. 

All the screams, the dead glassy looks in their eyes. 

The Dementor caressed her hair before floating out of the cell, leaving her alone with her tears.

 

***

“We’ve got her!” Ron crooed as he entered the Burrow. 

“Got who?” Molly asked as she placed the last dish on the table. It was one of the few times she’d managed to get the whole family together for dinner.

“Harri Bloody Potter. We caught her today,” Ron bragged.

“Finally!” Hermione cheered. 

“What?” George asked, his words ripping through the cheer of the room. 

“She was by Diagon. I didn’t think it was her at first, but she was holding a child and it changed slightly. I took a chance, and I was right!” Ron explained, his grin nearly splitting his face. George stood abruptly, his chair hitting the ground.

“Where is she? Where did they put her?” George demanded.

“I can’t tell you that,” Ron huffed, “and I don’t understand why you’re so obsessed with her. She’s a criminal, George. They’ll either imprison her for life or kill her, whichever turns out to be easiest.”

“Harri Potter was the love of Fred’s life,” George said, his voice low.

“George honey, Fred loved Angelina,” Molly told her son gently.

“No. I loved Angelina. Always did. Fred loved Harri. If Harri hadn’t been hit by the Killing Curse, you would have had a grandchild from Harri,” George spat at his mother. 

“She’s got you brainwashed, mate,” Ron said, already digging into the food. Ginny and Hermione nodded along with Ron. 

It was only the older children that looked uneasy. 

George stood and made his way over to the family clock. Fred’s hand had fallen off, and George kept it back at his flat. 

Without preamble, he ripped his own hand off the clock and made his way to the floo. He didn’t say a word as he left. 

***

When George arrived at 221B Baker street, he was immediately accosted by Sherlock and John.

“Do you know where Harri is?” John asked anxiously.

“I know what happened. Not where she is. My arse of a brother arrested her earlier today,” George said grimly. 

“So the wizards have her?” Sherlock asked.

“Yes. We need to find out exactly where she is and break her out,” George decided angrily.

“Break her out? What if she’s in Azkaban?” the man he’d been introduced to as Lestrade asked dubiously.

“For Harri, we could do it. I’ve got a cursebreaker older brother who would give his right arm for Harri,” George said. 

“That won’t be necessary,” a man George hadn’t met before said. 

“Who are you?” George demanded.

“Mycroft Holmes. Now, I need to know. Is it the Ministry of Magic who has Harri, or someone else?” Mycroft demanded.

“Ministry of Magic, I would presume. My brother’s an Auror,” George said disdainfully. 

“Good. We can work with that. The Queen was highly displeased to learn of my soon-to-be sister-in-law’s unlawful capture. She issued an immediate pardon for any crimes Harri may have committed. We just need the Ministry of Magic to acknowledge that they are the ones holding Harri,” Mycroft said. 

“Why wouldn’t they?” John demanded.

“If they know what we’re up to, they could pass her off to someone as an individual guard. Or claim they did not issue her capture to avoid expulsion from England. Because the Queen is not happy. She’s been wanting to meet Harri for years, and the Ministry of Magic kept denying her the right,” Mycroft said, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. 

“What Queen?” George asked, feeling out of the loop.

“The Queen of England,” Sherlock said, staring at the red-head.

“We have a queen? Since when?” George asked in disbelief.

“We’ve always had a queen. The Wizarding World just refuses to acknowledge it. But they will if the queen decides to kick them out of her country. And she can,” Mycroft said with a smirk.

“Talk about power. Why didn’t she do something about Voldemort?” George asked.

“The Wizarding World refused to ask her for assistance. Had they asked, the conflict would have been over in months rather than years,” Mycroft said with a sneer. 

“I think I like this Queen. Can I come with Harri to meet her?” George asked.

“You can’t flirt with the Queen of England,” Sherlock pointed out.

“Actually, she’d probably flirt with him,” Mycroft said with a sigh. 

“So where is this Ministry of Magic? How soon can we get there?” Sherlock asked.

“She is probably being kept at Azkaban. If we can get there, we can override everything from there without giving them a chance to reject us,” George said. 

“And if she isn’t?” Mycroft asked. George was quiet for a second. He then pulled out his wand and murmured some words.

A glowing weasel appeared in front of them.

“Go to Bill and Charlie. Tell them I need them here, 221B Baker Street in London. Tell them it’s about Harri,” George commanded. The shape quickly vanished. 

“What was that?” Sherlock asked.

“Their version of a cell phone, I would suppose,” Lestrade said. 

“We should split up, cover all grounds at once,” George said grimly, “Bill and I will go to Azkaban and wait for you to contact us. You lot can take the pardon to the Ministry of Magic. If we see anyone sending a message in or out of there, we’ll strike.”

“And if they move her? Then what?” John demanded. 

“Charlie will monitor and be the in between,” George said just as a crack was heard. Moments later, the door was flung open and two more redheads strode inside.

“George,” the oldest said. 

“Bill, Charlie, this is Sherlock, Harri’s fiancé. This is her adopted brother, John, and…Lestrade? He’s cool too. And…that’s Sherlock’s brother,” George said.

“Mycroft Holmes,” Mycroft introduced himself. 

“What’s going on?” Charlie wanted to know. 

“Harri was captured by the Ministry of Magic. We have a pardon from the Queen of England – because we have a queen – and we don’t want them locking Harri up once more or tricking us and moving her,” George explained. 

Bill was silent.

“Are you certain it was the Ministry of Magic?” Bill asked.

“Yes. You heard Ron earlier,” George pointed out. 

“Ron’s not the brightest. He would have turned her over to the first person he saw. What if someone intercepted them?” Charlie pointed out.

“Or even worse. The Ministry of Magic could still have her,” Bill said. 

“How is that worse?”

“Because I’ve had to work in there before. They have cells there, with their own regime of Dementors. There’s an area that cannot be opened – they cannot take people from there. Once they’re thrown inside, they remain there until they die. Given Harri’s track record of escaping, they wouldn’t take a risk of putting her in Azkaban,” Bill pointed out. 

They were silent.

“And is there no way to get into those cells?” George asked.

“That’s the problem. They’re built into the base of the Veil.”

The Weasleys were silent while everyone waited for an answer.

“Okay, sorry, but what are Dementors, and what’s the veil?” John finally said. 

“Dementors look like grim reapers. They suck your soul out, and make you relive your worst memories,” George said. 

“And the Veil is the shortened name for the Veil of Death. It rests in the Department of Mysteries, and if you pass through it you instantly die. In building the prison into the base of the Veil, any escape would lead the escapee straight to the veil. Straight to death,” Bill said.

“Does Harri know this? Because Harri will try to escape as soon as she can,” Sherlock said suddenly. 

“She will not. The prison cells were designed to appear just as Azkaban. So she’ll think that’s where she is,” Bill explained.

“How would one go about destroying these cells?” Mycroft demanded. 

“Short of destroying the Ministry of Magic as a whole, nothing. They’re built into the very foundation of the place,” Bill explained.

“So how do we destroy the Ministry of Magic?” Sherlock demanded. His words were met with silence. 

“We don’t,” George said, his shoulders sagging.

“That’s an unacceptable answer. You said that, should her Majesty decide, she can kick the Wizards from the country? In doing so, would we be able to destroy the Ministry?” Sherlock wanted to know.

“We could, but that would require an explicit order from the Queen herself. I don’t know if she would risk such a thing,” Mycroft said carefully.

“We can ask, can’t we?” George asked, perking up slightly at the chance. 

“We can ask,” Mycroft said solemnly.

But he didn’t look like they would succeed.

 

*************

Harri was cold. 

She was used to cold, yes, but it had been awhile since she’d been Dementor-induced cold, and she most certainly did not miss it. She could feel the coldness seeping into her very bones. 

The longer she sat in the cell, the more lumps she found. There were four lumps in her cell alone, each of which she could assume had been a human. 

Which led her to a chilling conclusion: they didn’t remove anyone from these cells. Not even when they died. 

The wall in between her cell and the next was small enough that she could get through, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to. The dim lighting did little to show what lie for her in the next area. 

The next cell erupted in a series of wet coughs.

Whoever they were, they were dying.

How long did Harri have before that became her?

She’d been in the cell about a day when the whole prison shifted, moving. She felt the cell moving before it settled in a new location.

Azkaban didn’t move.

“Where am I?” Harri asked aloud, staring around the place. Her voice seemed to trigger a Dementor, who came by once more. She had only just recovered from the last Dementor fly-by. Harri shrank in the cell, whimpering. 

But she wasn’t the only one whimpering. 

“No! Please! Not Harri!” a voice pleaded. 

But it wasn’t her mother. Not this time.

“Severus?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys, I have this section of the story written. It ends on chapter 11 (ten, not including the prologue), and there will be a sequel. The sequel, however, will cross over with another show - I may or may not post the prologue for that at the end of this - I haven't decided yet. 
> 
> It's been great, you guys. I hope you'll all enjoy this and the sequel to come. 
> 
> Andi


	10. Chapter 9

“Severus?” 

The cell next to her stopped whimpering.

“Harry?”

The voice sounded broken, but Harry could recognize Severus’s voice.

“Severus!” Harry shouted, pressing herself against the bars. The Dementor glided into her cell, but Harry grit her teeth and ignored the gory images that flashed by her eyes, the sounds that echoed in her ears. 

And Harry slid through the bars. 

The Dementor followed her and Harry allowed herself to collapse, the Dementor resting a bony hand on her shoulder before turning and making its way out once more. 

“Severus?” Harry asked. A figure in the corner of the cell moved.

“Harry! You sound closer? Please. Are you real? I hope you aren’t,” Severus called, but the voice didn’t come from the huddled figure. It came from the next cell over. 

The figure in this cell let out another painful cough, and Harry found herself moving closer. 

“I climbed out of my cell and into the next one. I think I’m in the cell next to you,” Harry said, but she was still focusing on the mass.

The figure shifted, and long, matted blond hair became visible. 

Harry recoiled as the bright blue eyes landed on her. 

Lucius Malfoy.

“Well, well well. Potter,” Malfoy murmured, but he couldn’t get any more out before coughing. 

“Harry!” Severus was still calling to her. Harry took a step back. 

“Run along. I’m dying. No need to stare,” Lucius informed her drily, before curling more up on himself. 

Harry hesitated once more before climbing through the bars of his cell, into what she presumed was Severus’s.

She was instantly pulled into his arms, flinching at the movement.

“You’re alive,” Severus sobbed.

“Of course I am,” Harry said, puzzled. 

“I’ve…I’ve been in here so long. I thought for sure you were dead,” Severus murmured. 

“You can’t have been in here that long. A while back, Draco and Narcissa came to try to find me. They said you sent them,” Harry said. 

Severus stiffened.

“I did not,” he said, “I’ve been in here for the better part of a year. I had my bag on me, which is the only reason I’m as healthy as I am,” Severus said. 

“So they were trying to find me for the wrong people,” Harry murmured.

“Lucius was thrown in here a while ago. His wife signed off the rights to him, by renouncing his name. With no one to visit him, he was thrown in here as well,” Severus said with a cough. 

“Where is here?” Harry wanted to know.

“We’re in the prison cells of the Ministry of Magic. Under the Veil,” Severus said. 

“How did we get here?” Harry demanded, feeling her blood run cold. 

“There’s an entrance right at the base of the Veil,” Severus said. 

“And how do we get out?”

“We don’t.”

Harry didn’t like his words. She didn’t like them at all.

“We do. I have a son to get back to. A son, a brother, and….a fiancé,” Harry said, struggling over the last word. 

“There’s literally no way of getting people out of here. I researched the place, back when the Dark Lord was taking over the Ministry. For awhile, he considered throwing the Order members after the war in here, or leaving you here to be detained. Upon learning that no one can be retrieved, he decided against it,” Severus explained.

“Well, no one’s built a prison yet that could fully hold me. Also, I have one of the smartest muggles ever born out there, looking for me. Something more than a Squib, I’d say, from the magical outbursts he’s had as of late,” Harry said as she patted herself down. 

A triumphant shot left her lips as she found her undetected extension charm bag. She’d been all but unconscious when they chucked her in here – she’d assumed they would have taken it from her.

Yet, if they threw Severus in here with his bag, they couldn’t have been the smartest. Just an overzealous bunch, she assumed. A pompous bunch.

“Do you have a wand?” Severus asked, his voice low.

“No. I haven’t had a wand since I left you,” Harry admitted.

“What happened?”

“I fell on it when I landed. Broke it and the communications mirror in one go,” Harry admitted as she rifled through the bag. Taking inventory of everything she had. 

Her fingers brushed against the cell phone John insisted she carry for emergencies. Harry pulled it out and powered it on. 

Full charge. 

Thank Merlin. 

“A cell phone? It shouldn’t work,” Severus pointed out.

“Sherlock, my fiancé, fixed it up a bit,” Harry said as she hit Sherlock’s name and pressed call. 

It rang once, twice, then there was a quiet silence.

“Harry?” the voice was monotonous, as if suspicious.

“Sherlock!” Harry said in relief.

“Harry. We’re plotting to break you out,” Sherlock informed her.

“Easier said than done. I’m in some prison in the Ministry where they don’t have a way of retrieving the victims,” Harry admitted. Sherlock was silent for a few seconds.

“We realized that that was an option. That’s also our hardest way to get you out. Describe the place. Quickly,” Sherlock said.

“Dark cells, dementors – you know what those are are?” Harry asked.

“George explained them. Continue. Details. Theo could tell me more,” Sherlock complained, his voice anxious. 

“They didn’t strip us of things before throwing us in. The bars are wide enough I can squeeze through. And they moved places, a while after I was thrown in. Sherlock, there’s bodies in each cell. People die here. And they don’t even remove their bodies,” Harry said, her voice shaking slightly.

“Other prisoners? Have you explored?” Sherlock wanted to know, but his voice also sounded strained. 

“I’ve found two I know so far. Severus is here. The one who supposedly sent the Blacks to us. They’re not the good guys,” Harry warned. 

“That was always a suspicion. How long can you last?” Sherlock demanded.

“Awhile. Severus has been here months and is okay. I have my bag and am with him. I assume they throw food down every so often. But….please. It’s not a nice place,” Harry pleaded. Sherlock was silent for a moment.

“Okay. Tap on the walls. Tell me if they sound hollow. Tap on the floors, the walls, everywhere. Explore. Go through the cells, get a good idea of the layout. Turn off the phone while doing this. Save the battery. Once you have a good idea of it, call me back. We’re working on things here,” Sherlock said softly.

“What sort of things?” Harry asked.

“Currently? Waiting for an audience with the Queen to see about banishing the Ministry of Magic and majority of non-integrating Wizards from England.”

“Banishing wizards?” Harry repeated.

“It’s the only way to effectively destroy the Ministry of Magic so we can try to get you out,” Sherlock reasoned. 

“Just…don’t do anything rash? And give Theo a kiss from me,” Harry asked softly.

“I will. Take care. Be smart. Call me back,” Sherlock demanded. Harry hesitated.

“I….I love you, Sherlock,” she said.

And she hung up. 

She knew he wouldn’t respond- he didn’t quite understand the concept of love.

But just in case, she had to make sure he knew that. 

 

Sherlock stared down at the phone blankly.

 

“Was that Harry? Is she alright?” George demanded. Sherlock’s eyes drifted up to John, who was also waiting eagerly.

“She said she loves me,” Sherlock said.

“Oh for Christ’s sake, of course she does! Now, where is she?” John demanded.

“The Ministry prison. As we suspected,” Sherlock said.

“Then get dressed in your finest. We’ve an appointment in half an hour with the Queen,” Mycroft said as he flipped his own phone shut. 

“No need,” George said. He waved his wand and the three of them’s outfits transformed on them into suits. 

“I might have to invest in such a thing,” Sherlock decided. 

“Or, brother of mine, you could invest in being less lazy,” Mycroft said with a roll of his eyes.

“Says the one who won’t do legwork,” Sherlock pointed out.

“What do you think I’m doing now? Harry should be honored. I don’t do legwork for just anyone,” Mycroft complained. 

“Are we all going?” Lestrade asked, plucking at the collar of his suit uncomfortably. 

“Yes. We need as many perspectives as possible. Bring your progeny as well, Sherlock. Or. Hmm. I guess we’ll still call him that. After all, Mummy will never leave us alone if she learns she no longer has a grandchild,” Mycroft mused. 

“Theo is my son,” Sherlock said firmly, scooping the child up. 

“Well, we need him to win the queen over. She loves children,” Mycroft said.

“If she’s the queen, I’m sure a child will not distract her,” Lestrade pointed out.

“He won’t. But he’ll soften our words. Can you cry on command?” Mycroft asked Theo. Theo blinked up at him with wide eyes. 

“Close enough,” Mycroft said with a sigh.

“He’s waiting. It wouldn’t do for him to have red eyes going in,” Sherlock brushed it off, clutching his phone with his other hand quite tightly. He wasn’t sure how long it would take Harry to measure out the place. 

The longer it took, the more hopeless everything felt.

But he wasn’t giving up.

Harry had said she loved him. 

 

Harry was exhausted by the time she’d finished scouring just the basic areas. Nothing seemed hollow – the stones were solid, through and through. 

“This place seems to go on forever,” she whispered to herself before giving up and crawling back towards Severus’s cell. By this point, her hair was filthy and her elbows bleeding. 

Severus took in her appearance and sighed.

“Rest a bit. You look like you need it,” he told her. 

“Do they feed us here?” Harry asked.

“The Dementors drop off chilled porridge every three days,” Severus admitted. 

“Merlin,” Harry swore.

“And I’m pretty sure the porridge is drugged. I haven’t been eating it if I can help it, but every time I do I feel worse than I did before I ate anything,” Severus informed her. Harry nodded and curled up in a ball in the center of his cell. 

She was out before Severus could utter another word. 

 

The Queen was not amused. 

That was Sherlock’s first realization when they were led into the room. Mycroft greeted her instantly with a show of respect, and everyone else mimicked him. Sherlock reluctantly found himself also imitating his brother. If that was what it took to save Harry, so be it. 

But the Queen listened to them as they explained what had happened to Harry and where she was being kept. They explained all of their plans thus far and how they had been unable to come up with a conclusion. 

“We just don’t have enough evidence,” Mycroft finished with, only for Sherlock to frown. 

“We need to get someone in there with her,” Sherlock said.

“There’s no way out, Sherlock. Even if we managed to find the place and throw someone else in, how would we rescue them? It would just be one less person,” Mycroft explained with a frown at his brother. 

“But there might be a way out from the inside. And if I was there, I might be able to find it.”

Sherlock’s words were met with a shocked silence.

“But what if you can’t? Then we have one of the greatest minds locked in a prison,” Lestrade pointed out. 

“What does it take, to be thrown in such a place?” the Queen inquired. 

“It’s generally those the Ministry does not want to roam around, and who no one will miss enough to inquire after them. The most dangerous of people,” Bill explained. 

“And if Sherlock were to be thrown in there, they would be throwing someone who is not a member of their government inside. If Sherlock were thrown in this prison, they would be violating their treaty with Great Britain. Then, I would be justified in absorbing the Ministry of Magic back into the British Government,” the Queen announced.

Sherlock’s wide eyes met his brother’s. 

“We thank you for the advice, Your Majesty. Is that how you wish us to proceed?” Mycroft asked smoothly.

“Return to me when a British citizen who never entered the magic world is thrown into this prison. Then I can bring it down.”

 

***

 

Harry was on her third round of adventuring as far as she could in the cells when the floors shifted suddenly, throwing her to the ground. The cell she was in was the farthest she had made it thus far from Severus and she had only just entered it when she hit the ground. 

The cell held two bundles of dead. At least one of them was relatively recent – it still held a body shape rather than just a pile of decomposed bone and hair as many of the rags were. 

A light cracked open from the cell next to her and there was a loud thud. 

“Shit.”

Sherlock’s familiar voice filled the cavern as the light disappeared.

“Sherlock!” Harry called out, throwing herself into the bars and cramming her thin body through them. 

“Harry!” he said, standing up abruptly. Harry flung herself in his arms, gripping him tightly. 

“What are you doing?” Harry asked in disbelief. 

“Getting you out on a technicality,” Sherlock told her.

“There’s no way out though. That’s what you said,” Harry said. 

“The Queen will destroy the Ministry of Magic to retrieve me, I assure you,” Sherlock said before straightening his jacket. He glanced around and shivered. 

“It’s not too bad at the moment. I…The dementors have already passed recently. Come on. We need to get back to Severus,” Harry said. She pulled Sherlock through the bars, his body sliding through just as hers did. Sherlock stopped, however, in the next cell.

The cell he had landed in had not had bodies in it, and Harry had not told him about them. 

“Come on. They’re all dead,” Harry said softly, but Sherlock didn’t move. Harry’s eyes followed his to the bundle that must’ve recently died, only to realize it had moved. 

“Hello?” Harry called, stepping forward. Sherlock’s wrist gripped hers tightly, holding her back.

“I need to see if it’s someone I know,” Harry protested, and Sherlock shook his head once more before stepping forward in her place. He moved closer, bending down over the bundle and pressing his hands inside before pulling back, a grim expression settling on his face. 

“He’s weak. Won’t last much longer,” Sherlock said. Harry stepped forward, catching a glimpse of the dirty face buried under the heavily matted black hair, eyes blinking open to stare at her. 

“Sirius?” 

Harry’s heart was beating so loud she couldn’t hear anything else. She stepped forward in a trance, reaching for the man, her godfather. Her dead godfather. He had died. She’d seen him die.

Then how was he here?

He’d fallen into the Veil. But this prison was directly below the Veil. Did anyone truly see him fall in, or had they just assumed the trajectory would lead him into the inevitable death?

“Harry. He’s almost dead,” Sherlock repeated, almost apologetically. 

“No. Sirius! It’s me! Harry! I’m alive, you’re alive!” Harry babbled. Sirius’s eyes blinked rapidly, his hand shakily trying to move from his huddled form. Harry gripped his hand tightly, the coldness of his hand seeping into her skin.

“Harry, he’s been here too long. He’s all but dead. We couldn’t even move him,” Sherlock tried reasoning.

“No. Sirius. We’re going to survive, okay? We’re getting you out of here, right now. We’ve got to get to our main cell, okay? I’m going to help you stand,” Harry told him, roping her own shaking arm around Sirius, lifting him slightly.

Sherlock jumped in, helping the man stand shakily to his feet. He was skeletal and his limbs shook. He opened his mouth but no sound came out. 

“Sh. It’s okay. We’re going home, Padfoot. We’re getting out of here,” Harry reassured him.

“How far do we need to travel?” Sherlock wanted to know.

“A good ways. About fifteen cells,” Harry admitted quietly before pausing. 

“How did you get thrown in here?” Harry wanted to know.

“Showed up at your Ministry, insulted the wrong people and threw out that no one would be looking for me. I didn’t realize they threw people in here for little. I was prepared to borrow Lestrade’s wand and start shooting random spells around,” Sherlock said. 

“Do you still have his wand?” Harry asked eagerly. Sherlock reached into his back pocket and fished it out, handing it to Harry. She waved her wand at Sirius, locking his body up before levitating him through the doorways before her.

“There. We can do this,” Harry said with an air of reassurance.

Inside, her mind was whirling so fast she felt like she was never going to be at ease again. 

Sherlock’s hand rested on her shoulder, jarring her thoughts back to him. Harry turned, staring up at him. 

“It’s not worth getting your hopes up. He will not survive,” Sherlock said, his voice straightforward.

“You don’t know him like I do. He always survives, if he has something to live for. He has me now,” Harry said, shrugging his hand off as she climbed through the bars. Sherlock shuffled after her and Harry took up her place in front of Sirius’s body to keep Severus from freaking out upon seeing him first. 

Thirty minutes later, they had made it back to the cell with Lucius in it. He was staring up at them from under his ratty blonde hair, eyes almost larger than the rest of his face. 

“Have you found any other survivors?” Sherlock asked, speaking for the first time since their argument. 

“Just him,” Harry said, only to frown once more. 

“We can’t leave him here either. Can you help him as well?” Harry asked. 

“He’s…okay,” Sherlock stopped himself, moving towards the other man. Harry went ahead and made her way into the cell with Severus. 

When Severus saw Sirius, his frown grew.

“Harry…” he began, but Harry shook her head.

“He’s alive, and he’s going to make it! I know he will. Sherlock’s here. He got thrown in here, and they’re going to take down the Ministry itself to get him back,” Harry told him. 

Severus just stared at her with emotionless eyes. 

When Sherlock made it into the cell with Lucius, he deposited him on the ground carefully next to where Harry had laid Sirius down. 

“Sherlock, this is Severus Snape. Severus, this is Sherlock, my fiancé,” Harry said before her eyes widened and she spun on him.

“How sure are you we can get out? Who did you leave Theo with?” she demanded.

“Theo will be fine. And we can get out of here. Now. First inquiry, where does the food come from?” Sherlock asked. 

“Dementors drop off porridge every three days,” Severus said. 

“Highly nutritious yet at the same time poisoned. Fascinating. But where do the Dementors get it from? I am assuming they do not have a kitchen,” Sherlock said. 

“I doubt Dementors can cook,” Severus said drily. 

“So there has to be a place where they have constant access to the outside world. Have you ever tried tracking the dementors? Are they consistently the same, or is there a shift of them that rotates out?” Sherlock wanted to know.

“We can’t tell. They…the effect they have on you, you can’t do much besides try not to cry when they’re around,” Harry admitted sheepishly. 

“Right then. I’m going to go explore then, and see if I can find the exit without having the others just blow up random parts of the ministry,” Sherlock announced.

“Not without me,” Harry shot back. Sherlock gave her a careful look. 

“Not without you,” he announced solemnly before giving Severus a look.

“We will return with news, unless you would rather the lot of you tag along,” Sherlock offered. 

“We should all go. So we don’t have to backtrack when we find the way out,” Harry decided. 

“We will be slower,” Sherlock informed her. 

“We can handle it,” Harry decided. 

“Severus and I will walk in front, and you can levitate the other two behind us. We’ll scope out with you following,” Sherlock told her. Harry nodded as she prepared the two men to be levitated along. Sherlock and Severus slipped through the cell into the next one, waiting for her to follow.

“She suffers strongly from sentiment,” Sherlock observed. 

“She has a hero complex. She’s always had to save everyone. She saved my life that way,” Severus murmured.

“Neither of those men will survive,” Sherlock said.

“I know,” Severus responded.

“Yet she has hope. I…Sentiment confuses me,” Sherlock admitted as Sirius was levitated through the cell bars. 

“You would have made a fine Slytherin,” Severus said.

“He would have,” Harry agreed as she climbed through. Sherlock examined the cell for a moment before moving to the coldest side of the cell with the smallest bars.

“Here. We need to go through these,” he said.

“I don’t know,” Harry said dubiously.

“Dementors make you feel cold, yes? Then the areas they are more populous in will be coldest. They don’t want us trying to follow them, so they leave their essense behind,” Sherlock said.

“When did you learn so much about Dementors?” Harry wanted to know.

“I researched them before coming down here. I don’t enter situations blindly,” Sherlock said. 

Harry pointedly ignored the look Severus shot her. 

Sherlock squeezed through the bars, only having to stop twice to readjust his body through the thin gap. Severus went next, with a bit more difficulty. He was a larger man than Sherlock, but he had been starved. He too managed to fit through. 

Harry decided to levitate the other two through first. Their bodies were so emancipated it wasn’t much a of struggle to get them through. 

She, however, had a bit of difficulty. 

Because she was almost healthy in weight now. 

It took a few minutes of tedious shifting and holding her breath, but Harry finally made it through. Sherlock had her in his arms as soon as she’d passed through the bars, meticulously checking her over.

“You’ll have a few bruises there,” Sherlock said, pointing to both the side of her chest and her left thigh she’d had to force through with more pressure than she’d anticipated.

“Bruises are nothing,” she said, shrugging it off. 

A foreign look passed across Sherlock’s face before he smoothed his expressions over. 

“Right. This way.”


	11. Chapter 10 - An Ending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry! I forgot I hadn't posted this before!

Mycroft stared at John, who was shifting nervously. Behind him, George, Bill, and Charlie looked equally uncomfortable. 

“Is this really the only way?” Lestrade spoke up from Mycroft’s other side. 

“It’ll be the only way to get Harry and Sherlock out,” Mycroft said. 

“We might start an all-out war,” Bill said carefully. Mycroft shook his head. 

“The Ministry of Magic runs on a promise. An unbreakable vow, if you will. If they ever raise their wands against the queen or members acting in her direct commands, willingly and under the knowledge of who they are opposing, they lose their magic,” Mycroft said. 

The other men shuddered. 

“Do they know that though?” John asked.

“We are not taught that,” George admitted. 

“No. Because the Ministry of Magic would like to believe they have all the power. I foresee this being rude awakening,” Mycroft said. 

“Now, how do we get there again?” John asked, shifting once more.

“It’ll be easiest to floo, unless you want to crowd into a telephone booth,” Charlie said. 

“It wouldn’t happen to be bigger on the inside, would it?” John asked. When no one seemed to understand what he said, John sighed.

“Floo it is, then.”

The lot of them made it to a house where Bill had a long conversation with the women who answered the door before waving them inside. As they shuffled into the living room, Bill picked up some sparkling green powder from the fireplace ledge. 

“Right. I’ll floo Mycroft in, and Charlie, you can floo John in. The quicker we are, the better,” he said, a grim expression painted on his lips. 

After a bout of only slightly undignified sputtering, they came out into the Ministry of Magic. 

“Where should we start?” Bill wanted to know.

“The top. Lead me straight to the Minister’s Office,” Mycroft said, his voice unwavering. 

Bill and Lestrade exchanged worried looks before Bill took the lead, weaving through the masses. 

“Bill?” a voice called out. John spun around to see another red-head, staring suspiciously at them.

“Ron,” Bill said, his voice even. 

“What are you doing here?” the kid asked. 

“We’re on important business, and you’re detaining us,” Mycroft said, his voice adopting a drawl. 

“I wasn’t talking to you, mate,” Ron said, waving him off. 

“Ron, I’d recommend you not interrupt us. Some things are about to change, and it may not be for the better for you,” Charlie warned him.

“Merlin, I just was curious,” Ron protested, glaring at George as if it were his fault. 

“You should go home,” Bill recommended.

“I’m working. Unlike you lot,” Ron pointed out. 

“We are on a schedule. The sooner we take care of my brother, the better,” Mycroft reminded them. 

“Theo isn’t going to behave for Mrs. Hudson very long, either,” John warned. 

“Right. Sorry. Bye Ron,” Bill said, brushing past his brother. 

They made their way through the halls, stopping at a secretary’s desk.

“We have an important document for the Minister,” Bill said, glancing back at Mycroft. 

“I’ll let him know,” the secretary said, but she didn’t stand.

“I think you misunderstand. We have a timely document that, if you do not escort us in at this moment, will result in a war,” Mycroft said, his voice ice. 

The girl was on her feet in an instant, eyes narrowed on Mycroft.

“I’ll see what he’s doing,” she said, her posture stiff as she entered the closed doors. A few minutes later, she popped back out, still eyeing them distrustfully.

“Minister Shacklebolt will see you now,” she said. They all nodded to her as they entered the room. 

Sitting at the desk, the Minister looked both highly displeased and apprehensive all at the same time.

“Kingsley?” Lestrade blurted out, staring wide-eyed at the man.

“Greg? What are you doing here?” the Minister asked.

“Important business. Blimey, mate, I hadn’t realized you were the minister,” he said, looking guilty. 

“Not important. Now. We have some business to discuss,” Mycroft said, staring intently at the man. 

“You informed my secretary that this could cause a war,” Shacklebolt said carefully.

“Correction. This will cause a war. No way for you to avoid that,” Mycroft told him coldly.

“And what are the premises?” the Minister wanted to know. Mycroft pulled two sheets of paper from his folder and set them on the desk in front of Shacklebolt.

A photo of Harry and a photo of Sherlock. 

“The capture and imprisonment of two of the Queen’s most favored subjects,” Mycroft said smoothly.

Shacklebolt did not look pleased.

“Harry Potter is a citizen of the Wizarding World and was wanted for war crimes. This other man I’ve only just seen this morning when he caused a scene,” Shacklebolt said coldly. 

“Yes. Unfortunately, when he’d learned you meant to kill his fiancé, he did not take too kindly to it,” Mycroft said. 

“We have the right to punish our own,” Shacklebolt said.

“Within limits. However, the Queen has issued a full pardon for both,” Mycroft said, pulling the sheets out and laying them over top the photos. 

“I’m afraid a pardon is out of the question. Their punishment is irreversible,” Shacklebolt said. 

“The Queen has stated that, should they not be released by nightfall, the Wizarding Ministry of Magic, as well as Magical England, will be disbanded and reabsorbed into Her Majesty’s full country,” Mycroft said coldly. 

Shacklebolt lost any color her had previously had on his face. 

“We have no way of releasing them,” Shacklebolt said.

“Then I do hope you’re prepared for life as a fugitive. A good deal of the Wizarding Society might find themselves wanted in Great Britain,” Mycroft said.

“No. You don’t understand. They’re dead.”

Shacklebolt’s words were met with silence.

“Excuse me?” Mycroft’s words were cold, harder than ice. 

“They aren’t dead,” John said instantly, eyes wide. He looked between Mycroft and the Minister, blinking rapidly.

“They can’t be dead. We’ve spoken with them,” Mycroft said. 

“Anyone who passes through the veil is dead,” Shacklebolt said, pulling a book off the shelf behind him. He flipped through the pages before showing them Harry’s name, with deceased written behind it. 

John had his cell phone in a heartbeat, calling Sherlock’s number.

It rang once, twice, three times.

“Bit busy,” Sherlock answered, his words in between pants. 

“See? He’s alive. He answered his mobile,” John said. 

“What do you mean, passes through the veil? They were thrown in the prison beneath the veil,” Bill argued, staring at him. 

“What prison?” Shacklebolt asked, confused. 

“Mr. Weasley?” Mycroft asked, staring at him. 

“There is a prison. I helped built it. I would know,” Bill argued.

“The idea was shut down. It wasn’t sturdy enough of an idea,” Shacklebolt said. 

“Sherlock, you bloody well better answer me. What’s going on?” John asked, quickly putting the mobile on speaker phone. 

“Currently? Outrunning Dementors. Again. They’re not too happy with us,” Sherlock said before cursing. 

“Is Harry there?” John demanded. 

“John? We’re a bit busy?” Harry’s voice filled the room. John let out a sigh of relief.

“Shit! Severus, steady him,” Harry’s voice called out.

“Severus?” Shacklebolt looked a shade of grey by that point. 

“How many of you are there?” Mycroft asked.

“Five. Five of us, only three of us actually mobile. We’re…shit! Something’s not right,” Sherlock said. 

“What’s going on?” George demanded. 

“We’ve found the exit. We just can’t get through.”

“What do you mean, brother mine?” Mycroft asked.

“I mean we can’t touch it. Harry calls it the veil,” Sherlock said. 

“Merlin. They are on the other side of the veil,” Bill cursed.

“Get us down there right now. Or this ministry will fall,” Mycroft promised. 

 

Harry stared blankly at the veil. The other side, the room, it looked just as she remembered it, only more ghost-like.

“We can’t…we can’t be on this side of the veil,” Harry said.

“It explains why your godfather was down there,” Sherlock commented.

“As well as why they didn’t have a place for food for us. We were meant to starve. Because we’re, in a way, already dead,” Severus said, his voice flat. 

“No. I won’t settle for that. I have a son out there. And I’m getting back to him,” Harry swore. She moved closer to the veil, only for Sherlock to pull her back.

“We don’t know what that will do,” Sherlock pointed out to her. 

The door of the room opened and in rushed George, Bill, Charlie, Lestrade, John, Mycroft, and Shacklebolt. 

“Dear Lord,” John gasped, moving closer.

“Don’t touch it,” Mycroft warned him. 

“Can you see us?” Harry asked.

“We can. You’re…see-through,” John said. 

And Harry had an idea. 

She stepped forward, sliding her hand into her pocket. 

There, where it always rested, was the resurrection ring.

“Who built the veil?” Harry demanded.

“We don’t know. Vladimir Malefoi was the first to discover it, but he never told what exactly he learned,” Shacklebolt said. Harry nodded and slid the ring onto her finger. 

“Vladimir Malefoi,” Harry said firmly. The shadows in front of her grew and gathered until a figure appeared in front of her. 

“You called?” the voice asked.

“How do you escape the veil?” Harry asked.

“You cannot,” Malefoi said.

“You can. I will. I need to know how,” Harry repeated. 

“I spent my life trying to figure out before I died. Death waits for no knowledge,” he said. Harry growled and banished him back.

“What was that?” John demanded.

“I can summon the dead,” Harry said, ignoring the others’ looks. 

“I could use a discussion with death himself again,” Harry said, still twisting the ring absently. 

“Again?” Sherlock demanded.

“You called?”

The voice came from Harry’s. She turned quickly to see a shadowy figure under a heavy robe. 

“Death,” Harry said with the nod of her head. The figure lowered his hood, revealing a slightly older, male version of herself. 

“Master,” Death acknowledged in return. 

“How do we return from this side of the veil?” Harry asked. 

“You don’t.”

Harry stared at Death, stared hard at him. Death tilted his head.

“And yet, you don’t order me to change that,” Death said.

“Why would I do that?” Harry asked. 

“Because you are my master,” Death said. 

“I never asked for that,” Harry said. She shook her head and sighed before turning back to Death.

“What must I do?” she asked. 

“I cannot change this. You have made it to the limbo state. Not death. The veil is a portal between worlds. You go through it, you will end up in another universe,” Death said. Harry closed her eyes, before opening them.

“Is there any way for Theo to be brought to us? Or I am to never see him again?” Harry asked.

“The child can be passed through the veil to continue the journey with you,” Death agreed.

“Are you saying there is no way for us to get back?” Sherlock asked, stepping forward.

“None,” Death agreed. Sherlock nodded and stepped towards the veil.

“I’m sorry, John,” Sherlock said carefully.

“Don’t be sorry. Figure something out. You’re Sherlock Bloody Holmes!” John exclaimed, staring at him.

“Even I have my limits. If Death itself is telling us there is no way, there is no way. Can someone fetch Theo?” Sherlock asked. 

“Mummy won’t be happy,” Mycroft said, but his voice sounded a bit off. 

“No. Neither will the Queen. I’d recommended going ahead and destroying the Wizarding Government,” Sherlock said.

“I intended to,” Mycroft agreed.

“Can I come with you?” John asked.

“You have Mary,” Sherlock told him.

“We could both come with. We don’t have anything holding us here,” John said. 

“I don’t know if Mary would agree,” Sherlock said with a bittersweet smile. John shook his head and pulled out his phone.

“Mary? Yes. You said you didn’t have any family, correct? Any attachments here? No? How would you feel about starting over somewhere brandnew with Sherlock, Harry, and Theo?” John asked. 

A few seconds later, John smiled.

“Good. Pack anything you can’t live without. We’re going through a portal. Go to 221 B Baker Street. We’ll have someone get you and Theo and bring them here,” John said. He hung up the phone.

“Mary’s coming along too,” John said. 

“Wait and you can all enter the veil together. From there, you can all go through the veil once more into a new world,” Death said.

“Will I still be your master?” Harry asked.

“You will,” Death agreed, only for Harry’s shoulders to drop.

“I was hoping that would end,” Harry said.

“You will always be my master,” Death said before fading away once more. 

“Is there anything from 221 B Baker street you desire, brother?” Mycroft asked. 

“My violin. And skull. And there’s a small box under our bed,” Sherlock said.

“Would you mind taking me there?” Mycroft asked Bill, who nodded.

The two of them disappeared. 

“Are you sure you and Mary want to come?” Sherlock demanded.

“Of course we do. You’re our family. We can have a wedding just as easily in the other world. Or just say we’re married. It wouldn’t really matter,” John pointed out.

“It would matter to you,” Sherlock pointed out.

“What would matter to me is that my best man is there with me. That’s you, Sherlock. Wherever you are, I want to be. Besides, Theo needs his favorite uncle,” John said with a small smile. 

A few minutes later, Mycroft and Bill appeared with Theo, Mary, and Mrs. Hudson.

“Mrs. Hudson? What the hell are you doing here?” Sherlock asked.

“I heard you were leaving and thought I would too,” she said, holding up her bag. 

“You can’t ever come back,” John told her.

“Why would I want to? My entire family would be going,” Mrs. Hudson said, gesturing towards them. 

“We have no idea what awaits us,” Sherlock pointed out.

“Sounds like a day in the flat with you boys,” Mrs. Hudson said with a smile.

“That it does. We would be lost without our landlady,” Sherlock said, giving her a smile.

“Okay, so what do we do?” John asked. 

“All of you walk through. I’d suggest holding hands so you’re connected,” Harry said. They formed a train, John leading them through with Theo in Mary’s arms and Mrs. Hudson following. When they all made it through, Harry gave them a smile.

“Take care,” she told them.

“We will,” George promised solemnly.

“I’ll stage your deaths and take care of the Ministry. Don’t worry about any loose ends,” Mycroft said. 

“I won’t….Thank you,” Sherlock said. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Mycroft said, giving his brother one last bittersweet smile before leaving the room. 

As soon as the last of them left the room, the room faded out of existence. 

“Right guys. I’m going to go first. Hold hands so we don’t get separated. I don’t know what’s going to happen. Here. I’ll shrink the luggage,” Harry said. She loaded all the luggage into her pockets, miniaturized, before handing Theo to Sherlock.

“I’ll go first because I’m basically indestructible. You can follow. Theo, baby, don’t let go of Sherlock, okay?” Harry asked. Theo nodded quickly. Harry took in a deep breath and surveyed their group. 

These were the people who’d come to love her. Who she’d come to love in return. 

Mrs. Hudson. John. Mary. Sherlock. And Theo. Sirius. Severus. And then Lucius, who she could care less about but of whom she would not leave behind. Severus was holding Sirius up, and Lucius was being held up by John.

With a deep breath, Harry took a step forward, into the veil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the end of this portion. The next portion will be coming soon. I have two separate ideas going. The first one will be Harry, Sherlock, & Company's adventures in the new world (another universe, another England....it's great, trust me). 
> 
> The second, which I have not started on yet, will focus on what happens back in the Wizarding World. As of right now, I'm working on the first, and afterwards will work on what's happening simultaneously in the Wizarding Universe. Stay tuned for the next set! I will try to post it in the next week. I believe it will be called The Decay of Lying. It will be a crossover between Sherlock, Harry Potter, and a mystery universe that you'll find out when I first post it. 
> 
> I hope I'll keep my readers, and I hope you don't mind the twists I've placed. The ideas have changed so much since I started it, but I like these ideas much better and I hope you do too!
> 
> -Andi


	12. Sequel Up!

The next story is up! I've went ahead and created the series, so you'll be able to click on the bottom of this to go to the next story!

It's called The Decay of Lying. I hope y'all will enjoy it as much as I've enjoyed writing it so far! I have a great deal of plans for it. 

The sequel deals with the new world. I plan on writing another sequel at some point to show what's happening in the Wizarding World at the same time.

Even if you haven't watched the other show this crosses over with, feel free to read it anyway. :)


	13. A Note For Those Watching

Sorry for the note, but I wanted everyone to see this. For those of you who couldn't continue with the sequel due to not knowing Torchwood, feel free to go to the third in the series, just posted. It will focus on what's happening in the original universe, revolving around George and Charlie and the rest of those left behind. It's called A House of Pomegranates, and it runs parallel with The Decay of Lying. 

Both will be subject to infrequent updates, but they are both up now. 

Enjoy!


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